by Duncan Shields | Feb 13, 2012 | Story |
Author : Duncan Shields, Staff Writer
It was a way of life down here to prove how far you were willing to go.
The stew of Oddtown. The people that lived here knew that they’d never work in a place that required a dress code let alone a mannered way of behaving. The modifications they had done to themselves were extreme.
There was work that a person could get done that was reversible. Horns, smaller tattoos, piercings, subdermal implants, that sort of thing.
Judge’s kids got those to show that they were rebelling against a society that they didn’t create. All tasteful and done in places that could be covered up by business suits and hairstyles in later life when they realized that their destiny was to be a benefit to society rather than a burden.
They took their little rebellious walk in the wilderness on Oddside. If they were lucky, they made it back out with a few ‘hardcore’ stories and some street cred with the other kids from rich families. Learned a few staring tricks for negotiations in the boardroom when they finally accepted Daddy or Mommy’s tuition and went to law school. Memories to make them think that they had a soul or had experienced ‘real life’ for at least a little bit.
If they were unlucky, they met up with the people that didn’t give a fuck about their parents or futures. A few shots of crackoin later, a few hours of video later, and few ransom demands later, a few brain burns later, and the little girls and boys from the rich side of town ended up in pieces amongst the garbage bags in the alleys. Either that or just stumbling around dead-eyed until they starved to death.
But the smart inhabitants of Oddside realized that these kids had money and would soon be running things. Becoming friends with these kids could be good down the road. Ever since the inheritance act was passed, the poor became poor forever and the rich angled with each other for more money. The gulf between the two societies became an uncrossable trench littered with the Icarus skeletons of people who tried.
It’s all about appearance.
Take Mannycentric, for instance. He had robotic, cherry-red fists the size of oil drums. His shoulders and biceps were grafted to take the weight. If he relaxed, his knuckles dragged on the ground. Those fists could knock chunks out of buildings when they were fully charged. They weren’t gloves. The birth-meat of his forearms and hands was long gone.
Killie had antlers and four hearts. Her scars and tattoos ran the gamut from tribal to baroque. Not much of her original skin still showed. Hundreds of small, scalloped shark fins inserted from her tailbone up to her shoulder blades turned her entire back into a cheese grater.
Flail had extra joints installed in his legs. He ran like a deer and leapt like a flea. He had the buttonhole pupils of a goat.
They were currently letting a blonde rich girl buy them drinks and impressing her with violent stories, watching her eyes grow wide, feeling her excitement growing. She obviously thought she had a wild streak and was ready for whatever the night threw at her. She was wrong. Manny, Flail and Killie had been promised a hundred credits to deliver her to the Skinner. They were just waiting for the roofies to take effect. If they didn’t need the money, they might have tried to make her a friend.
It was a way of life down here to prove how far you were willing to go.
by submission | Feb 12, 2012 | Story |
Author : Jason Verch
It was time to put Em to sleep, but he could tell there was something on her mind.
“Everything ok sweetie?” he asked.
“Dad. Kay is an AI, right?”
“Well sure, you know that. She is a robot with an AI built in that controls her.”
“But I thought AIs were made to do really hard things that regular people aren’t smart enough for. Why do we have one for a housekeeper?”
“That is what AIs are mostly used for, but not every AI is smart enough to be a doctor or a scientist. Some are only as smart as an average person, and some not even that smart. Usually the ones that aren’t that smart get destroyed but daddy is able to keep some of the ones from work that don’t work out, and that?s how we got Kay.”
“What if I don’t turn out to be smart, will you and Mommy throw me away?!” She sounded on the verge of tears.
He reassured her, “Of course not sweetie, don’t be silly. That’s just part of my job at work. Mommy and I love you and will always love you no matter what.” This seemed to calm her.
“Do you think someday I could design AIs like you do? I think that would be fun.” She said.
“I think you can do whatever you want when you grow up. You are already smarter than all the other kids in your class, and get perfect marks on all your tests. You can be a doctor, a lawyer or yes, an AI designer. I’m sure you can be whatever you want to be.” Satisfied that he calmed her he added, “But now I need you to be a good little girl and go to sleep. It’s already past your bedtime.”
“Ok daddy. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight Em, I love you,” he said, as he typed the commands on his handheld to put the program in hibernation for the night.
An AI that designs other AIs he thought to himself. Well, I guess it could happen, but there was something unsettling about the thought. Wasn’t there some old 2d movie like that with President what’s His Name where AI robots take over the earth? That was just Hollywood fantasy; he put it out of his mind. He wasn’t sure what Iteration M would be used for, but there was no denying she was already leaps and bounds beyond the first eleven iterations of the program. Whatever she did it would be something great, something to make him proud, and definitely not another damn housekeeper.
by submission | Feb 11, 2012 | Story |
Author : Peter Andrews
The unmoving city. My city.
The boy is frozen now, four, maybe five, feet from the ground, cheeks pulled by inertia’s invisible fingers.
It is up to me–he might never turn into viscera, his limbs and neck at deathly angles. His family might never have to mourn. This day need never end. The sky could remain forever that shade of blue. People moving along the street might never reach their destination.
I walk away down the center of the road, litter lifeless in the air. The blur of tears makes the world a haze that need not exist. In still cars people are mid-conversation. I try to guess what about. Something about children I imagine, something happy. I do this sometimes, freeze the world and piece together my own understanding of it. The only time I have peace. Everything ceases to be, no one calls for me. There is no family wondering why their son/ wife/ baby/ whatever hadn’t been saved, why the Guardian hadn’t stopped that mugger/ rapist/ arsonist/ drunk/ whatever. Just bouncing around in their grief to find something — anything — to focus the loss on.
I am very old in a way. I stopped aging decades ago. I had a destiny: Humanity would die away — plague/ war/ earthquake/ floods/ meteors/ whatever–and I would be left here, alone, in peace.
Now it is different. The blood I cough up is dark, thick. They can’t do anything–their blades can’t cut my skin, their beams bounce off me. I have lived life as an immortal, now they tell me I will die. They wonder: How can a man who cannot be harmed develop cancer? They ask each other, shake heads. One of those things. They don’t think to ask me.
But so long as I do not release time, I have my eternal destiny, my black passenger in stasis.
But no more. I am human enough.
The boy hits the ground. He feels nothing, deep into shock. Another cluster of black cells in me.
I walk the city streets that have given me a life, and a death. Both are gifts.
by Clint Wilson | Feb 10, 2012 | Story |
Author : Clint Wilson, Staff Writer
The Neptune was a first class luxury star liner, the finest of everything from stem to stern; from her massive chandeliers hanging from cavernous twenty meter and higher ceilings to the never-ending filigree of intricately wood-carved railings and archways. The richest of the rich gathered in her grand ballroom, the behemoth ship orbiting the young star Epsilon Eridani close enough to see its violent magnetic storms through the tinted plexi-panes along her port side.
A whistle sounded and the crowd turned to the grand entrance stairway where the captain was descending with the president of the federation. The people ooed and aahed while applauding heartily. Both men were escorted by lanky, scantily clad, fem bots. Large security bots kept the masses at bay as the two celebrities and their posse made their way to the captain’s table.
“But I must get through, they have to be warned!” a voice came through to the inner circle.
The gruff metallic voice of a security bot stated sternly, “You’ll have to step back sir! Autographs will be signed at the meet and greet session at o-twenty-two-hundred.”
“You lumbering rotard, I don’t want autographs, I must warn the captain!”
As two security bots began to escort the interloper away roughly and without empathy, the federation president asked the captain. “Do you know who that is?”
Captain Rexxon looked both bothered and put out. “He used to be my chief science officer but the new budget cuts caused him to be transferred to a different post at a lesser wage.”
He turned to one of his assistants, “Where is Higgins working now?”
The intern answered, “In the galley sir. He has been learning his new trade of…” The assistant double-checked his hand held, “Cook’s helper.”
The president’s brow furled. “You had your chief science officer transferred to the kitchen? Well that doesn’t make sense at all. Maybe we should see what he’s trying to tell us.”
“Don’t worry Mr. President, he’s obviously disgruntled about his sad but necessary career change.” Then the captain rubbed his hands together. “Ah good, our round of drinks is here!”
By then the poor distraught man was already out of the ballroom and down an access hallway headed for the brig. It made no matter anyhow. Even if the captain had listened to and believed the former science officer and his sudden prediction that a massive bombardment of solar wind was on its way with unknown ramifications, there was no possible way to get the ship into hyperspace in time now.
And as the door slammed shut on the all-purpose cell and the SS Neptune’s newest cook’s helper, Jonathan Higgins, stumbled to the white padded floor, the flare hit.
A gasp came up from the startled ballroom crowd as the entire ship shuddered momentarily. Then there was the briefest instant of stillness followed by a sudden violent shaking as Neptune’s hull was bombarded by the surging wave of radiation.
And then it happened. Up became down and down became up as the surge suddenly cut through the tree trunk thick focused beam inside the ship’s gravity generator, separating it momentarily and then instantly reversing its poles.
In the ballroom and in other parts of the ship’s grandiose causeways and parks people suddenly found themselves falling from a sky of endless carpet, through twenty to sixty meters of air toward harsh landings on metal ceilings and endless chandeliers of diamond and glass.
Inside his prison Higgins sat up dazed but unscathed on the cell’s white padded ceiling; while all around him elsewhere on the ship people were screaming and dying.
by Roi R. Czechvala | Feb 9, 2012 | Story |
Author : Roi R. Czechvala, Staff Writer
“Thank you for calling BIOMEK customer support. My name is Tammy, how may I help you today?”
“Hi Tammy, I’m having a little problem with my domestic. I am a little frustrated here. I hope you can help me.”
“I am sorry to hear that. I’ll do my best to help you. Before we begin I’ll need the registration number of your BIOMEK domestic.”
“I have the number around here somewhere, oh yes, here it is. It’s T11H38X.”
“Thank you Ma’am. Let me just enter that and take a look at your account… Hmm… I see you had a prior issue with this product.”
“Yes, we had a poodle and one of the options we purchased with the domestic was the pet grooming download.”
“Yes Ma’am, and what was the problem?”
“There was… unpleasantness.”
“Yes?”
“Well, we didn’t find all of Precious.”
“I am so sorry to hear that. I know how you must feel. I’m a dog lover too. I was so sad when we had to put little Tinkerbell down when the new line of Dachshunds were released. What is the issue you are currently having with your BIOMEK home domestic unit?”
“Well, the domestic answered the door when the letter carrier arrived this morning.”
“Yes Ma’am?”
“The front porch is quite a mess.”
“Oh dear. And the mailman?”
“Pieces I’m afraid. It’s the Precious incident all over again.”
“Have you informed the authorities Ma’am?”
“No. Do you really think I should?”
“Yes Ma’am, I rather think you should. After all, there are others waiting for their mail.”
“I hadn’t though of that. Yes, I wouldn’t want my neighbours inconvenienced. There would be talk at the next neighbourhood association meeting. It’s a gated community you know.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that. Okay Ma’am, I see your product is still under warranty. I will issue a repair order. I just need a little information first to update your account. Would you please verify?”
“Oh Dear. Oh No. I’m sorry, I will have to call you back. I have to go. I’ll be calling you right back.”
“Ma’am?”
“The children just arrived home from school.”
