by Patricia Stewart | Jan 17, 2011 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
“We know that you released the Vigilante Spheres, Dr. Vehmic. So, you might as well confess,” argued the investigator.
Dr. Vehmic leaned back in his chair and smiled. Yes, he did release the spheres, but they couldn’t prove it. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” he replied.
“Quit playing games, Doctor. We have a copy of your thesis from ’16. We know that you theorized building autonomous devices with unlimited range that can fly, hover, and kill.”
Dr. Vehmic waved his hand dismissively. “That was mere speculation on the part of an ambitious young graduate student looking for employment in the defense industry. Nothing ever came of it.”
“That’s not what Dr. Curtis told us.”
Oh crap, thought Vehmic, but he kept his composure. “Who’s he?”
The investigator picked up a folder and opened it. “Dr. Timothy Curtis, a famous neuroscientist. I’m surprised that you haven’t heard of him, since we have video of the two of you together. It seems that he has developed the technology to decipher the syntax and the semantics of neural language. He can read minds, in other words. And he incorporated that technology into your automatons.”
“To what end,” demanded Vehmic?
“Here’s what I think,” began the investigator. “Ever since your wife and son were killed by Islamic terrorists, you’ve been plotting revenge. But deep down, you’re a decent man, unable to kill just any Muslim. You’re only after the really bad ones. So, you created these ‘Vigilante Spheres’ as they’ve come to be known, and released thousands of them in the Arabian Peninsula. They’re programmed to scan the brains of random individuals. If they detect that the individual is a terrorist, or fundamental Islamic extremist, it exposes them to a lethal dose of hard radiation. They get sick, and die a horrible death. Your devices have killed thousands already, and they are spreading to other parts of the world. Unfortunately, Dr. Vehmic, whatever your ‘execution criterion’ was, it wasn’t specific enough. Your devices are killing more than just Islamic terrorists. It appears that they’re killing anybody that meets your definition of ‘evil.’ In the last month, that list includes mercenaries, drug dealers, military commanders, world leaders, even some murderers who were already safely locked away in prison. Don’t get me wrong, Doctor, they were all bad actors, to be sure, but the U.S. Government can’t have its citizens killing foreign dignitaries, even if they are murderers. Now, Dr. Vehmic, you to tell us how to deactivate these devises.”
Still defiant, Vehmic replied. “Sorry Inspector, you’ve got the wrong man.”
“We’ll see,” said the inspector as he lifted a metal box onto the table. “I have a theory, Doctor. I don’t believe that your programming differentiates between individuals that kill for ideological reasons, from those that kill simply because they are “evil”. So, has your quest for revenge blackened your soul? Has blind hatred turned you into an evil person?”
The inspector began unlatching the metal clamps securing the lid of the box. “Now, I estimate that in the last year, you are personally responsible for killing at least ten thousand people with your spheres. Oh, by the way,” he added, “we captured one of them, and I happen to have it right here.” He patted the top of the box. “So, Dr. Vehmic, will you tell us how to deactivate the spheres, or should I let this one out of the box? I’d really like to know if my theory is correct. What do you think, Doctor? Will one of your spheres consider you an ‘evil’ person?”
by submission | Jan 16, 2011 | Story
Author : J.D. Rice
Discovering how to travel forward in time had been easy. Scientists had been experimenting with the accelerator for decades, perfecting safety limits, performing animal testing, making it ideal for human use. Set a dial, flip a switch, and a human being will be frozen in time until a set date. They even worked it out so you would continue to move along with the Earth through space.
The real trick, we knew, would be traveling backwards through time. Accelerating someone to the point of time freeze was simple enough. It followed the standard rules for relativity. The faster you move, the slower time passes. All we had to figure out was how to remain stationary and safe. But traveling backwards? That was a whole different can of worms. It raised questions about string theory and temporal paradoxes.
They told me it couldn’t be done, not in a thousand lifetimes. So I decided I’d just skip ahead to when it could be done and prove them all wrong.
The process was simple enough. The accelerators were getting ready for commercial use, to freeze people with serious illnesses until a cure could be found, so it was easy enough to procure a testing unit. I took it home, set the dial forward by a thousand years, and hit the switch. Protocol said that when they discovered my body in the accelerator they had to put it in storage until the thousand years were complete. The capsule’s outer shell would protect me from major wars. The external censors would delay my unfreezing if the atmospheric conditions around me were unsafe. Only the destruction of the Earth itself could keep me from waking up.
And so it was that I found myself on this strange new world. I woke up, feeling fresh and excited, and took my first breath of that oxygen-heavy air. The sky was dark, lit only by two pale moons and cluster of unfamiliar stars. The ground had a dusty, copper tint. The only vegetation were twisting, tangling blue vines.
Checking my chronometer, I found that I had been in temporal acceleration for over ten billion years. The Earth must be long gone. Destroyed by our dying Sun. Maybe even destroyed by humanity itself, a thousand years in my future, ten billion years in your past.
You found me disoriented and confused, barely surviving on the bitter fruit growing from those blue vines. Mad with loneliness, I welcomed your assistance with open arms. I’ve subjected myself to your tests. I’ve told you all I know about how I got on your planet. I’ve answered every question you have thought to ask me these last fifteen years. Now please, answer one of mine.
How do I go back in time? How do I get home?
by submission | Jan 15, 2011 | Story
Author : Thomas Keene
“But, your honor! I didn’t commit that crime.”
The judge rubbed his forehead with both hands. “Your vehicle was double-parked, on a curb, and had struck a mailbox. We have two store surveillance tapes showing you parking it and driving it away. But you claim innocence?”
“Simple!” Eisenhower raised a fat finger to his forehead. “I was braincast to Earth from oh-five hundred to oh-three thousand. The man who committed that crime was not me!”
The judge just blinked.
Braincasting was relatively new, but several big executives used it to commute to the Jovian moons to keep an eye on their businesses. The process is simple. Pack a quick-growing clone of yourself into a cargo ship headed out to Jupiter, and wait five months. When the clone gets there, you scan your brain on Earth, then beam the scan over the Web and dump it into the brain of your clone. Wake up on Jupiter, do some business at the office for eight hours, then scan your brain again and send it back to Earth in time for dinner with the family. It’s like teleporting, but you only teleport your brain patterns.
Most people who did this would have their “inactive” self sedated, to avoid the messy legal and social complications of being in two places at once. This defendant, however…
“Mister Eisenhower, do you or do you not have your inactive self sedated during a braincast?”
“I do not, your honor. He goes out for drinks with friends from work, attends parties, goes to the gym…”
The judge laughed.
“I don’t know what he was thinking! It won’t happen again!”
“Fine, then, Mister Eisenhower. We shall play it your way.” The judge leaned forward over the bench. “Murder, or traffic violations?”
“What? Murder?” Eisenhower blinked, and smacked his fat lips together.
“I can charge you with murder of your non-braincast self. By your own admission, of course.” He gestured to the metal recording box to the right of the stand. “You overwrote the mind of the man you claim committed this crime. By Jovian law, that is technically murder. And the case ought to take a minimum of three months to work its way through the courts. You will not be allowed to braincast back to Earth because you’re definitely a flight risk. I’m not sure how that will affect your job…”
The fat man’s face turned red, and he stood to object.
“OR, Mister Eisenhower…” He hesitated, then sat back down. “…or you can plead guilty to your traffic violations, pay a nine hundred credit fine, and take a five point penalty on your license. Your pick.”
Eisenhower looked like he was about to explode. He fidgeted, puffed, and finally gasped, “you win, I’ll take the fine.”
“Good.” The judge raised his gavel, but then paused and frowned. “Are you familiar with our license termination policy, Mister Eisenhower?”
“Er, no, your Honor.”
“You now have twenty-nine points on your license. One more traffic violation, and your Jovian driver’s license will be revoked permanently.”
“WHAT!?”
“I checked our records this morning. Every time you have been in court has been during a weekend or holiday on Earth. You would be unable to recall any of those crimes because you had braincast back to Earth before each was committed and processed. Did Mister, ah, ‘Not-Eisenhower’ not tell you?”
“N-no! No, your Honor, this is the first time I’ve been in this court! I don’t remember-”
The judge banged his gavel. “Very well, then. It wouldn’t be any help to YOU if I tell you to be more careful. Case dismissed.”
by submission | Jan 14, 2011 | Story
Author : Thomas Keene
“So,” the diplomat said, “is our offer acceptable to the people of Earth?”
I held my face in my hands and said nothing. The young lieutenant on my right, sat back down with another cup of coffee. The soldier standing on my left shifted his stance uneasily.
“This is a lot to… Can I ask you a few questions again?”
The diplomat twitched a tail, but said nothing.
“You’ve been surveying Earth for decades? That’s how you speak English?”
“Affirmative.”
“And right now some alien space-pirates, or the equivalent, are hurtling towards Earth faster than light, and they’re due in a couple of hours?”
“We estimate they will take action in one hundred and fifty-five minutes. If they commence with hostilities, you can expect enslavement and…”
“Right, right. And you’re offering to help… With only half a dozen of you and one small ship… You’ll help by broadcasting a distress call to the Galactic Something-Or-Other, and the space pirates will run away before a peacekeeping force shows up to arrest them for exploitation.”
“Yes. Our asking price is five percent of your country’s yearly gross product for the next century, with the stipulation that no more than twenty-five percent of any good be demanded. You understand the time-sensitive nature of this predicament. We would have contacted a more appropriate leader from your country’s executive branch, but our atmospheric engines are very slow.”
A soldier passed me a memo. I crumpled it up before my eyes had finished it. Still no word from command. Phones, radio, Internet, all dead or jammed everywhere. Space pirates go for communications first, apparently.
“If it will persuade you of our goodwill, we will let you know that we are risking our own lives. The liquid assets and sophonts on our ship exceed the value of your solar system and civilization by two orders of magnitude. We are a tempting target for criminals, and we must either hide or run regardless of your decision.” The diplomat blinked for the second… No, the third time since we’d started the discussion.
“Right… And as a local authority, by your laws, I’m a representative of my country. And if I agree, it’s like everyone in the government approved it unanimously.”
“Correct.” The diplomat blinked again.
I leaned forward. “So what happens if I say, ‘yes,’ and you help, but then Congress doesn’t ratify it?” The lieutenant next to me half stood up as if she was going to protest, but then thought better of it and went to get another coffee.
“Well… For breach of commercial agreement, standard precedent is to exact one hundredfold as the injured party sees fit.”
I nodded. I hate politics. I hate meetings. I hate being up at three in the morning.
“I’m sorry, but I’m unable to decide due to my low rank. Please help us, we will be very appreciative and try to recompense you with trade agreements or mining rights or something, but I can’t promise anything. I’m sure you understand.”
The diplomat nodded, lowered itself to the ground, and gracefully padded out of the conference room. My eyes hurt just walking it walk on five legs.
The lieutenant turned to me. “Do you think they’re lying, sir? Trying to set us up?”
“Lying or not, they’re only offering to send a message to some authorities, but not actually promising to help out in any way. No way I’m paying that much for a collect call!”
by submission | Jan 13, 2011 | Story
Author : Carter Lee
What happened to your future? We’re it. We, men from the future, have kidnapped you the day before you were going to make your ground-breaking new invention known to the world. We’ve taken the invention itself, and every scrap of paper and every shred of information about your process, and we’re gonna keep it. All of it. And, this is the good part, we’re going to remove not just all memory of your invention from your brain, but make it impossible for you to ever stumble down the mental path you’d need to follow to recreate it.
It makes us sound like Republic serial villains, doesn’t it?
Of course, the Ape with the Brain of a Robot, our leader, knows the repercussions of your little machine would have led to an unacceptable level of upheaval and collapse, along with all the death and suffering such things entail.
Food for thought.
That’s where the future you wanted went. The jetpack, the ones that maimed and killed thousands in the future, we made it disappear. We dropped agents into every year of this century, and they built up automobiles and air transport, along with the infrastructure to support them. And jetpacks faded into dream, only remembered by lovers of musty science fiction.
Weather control. Personal laser guns. All those crazy airplane designs. Dirigibles. We took them all away. The easy way, like this. We stop you, and whatever like-minded inventors might follow a train of thought similar to yours, from following through. We come here, remove your life’s work, everything connected with it, including your memory and some of your ability to reason, and then we go forward and look in the history books to see if any of them still mention you. Your singular contraption will be displayed in the Museum of Unreal Inventions.
The first removal I took part in, we saved the entire world. All by this, what I’m doing to you, happening to another genius with no common sense. I’m going to make the modern house as clean as clean can be, this clever fellow thought, and came up with a living floor covering. A live rug, that would digest any dust or dirt that settled in it for too long. Its excretions? A scent of your choice.
Do you have any idea how many dead skin cells are in household dust?
By the time it occurred to someone that walking on something that was subsisting on your very flesh was not the best of ideas, we’d already lost. The rug-things had discovered they liked the taste of human. One of them found that they could produce a scent that was a soporific for us. Made us just want to lie down, spread ourselves out, and feel good. It was the most merciful way of killing a person I’ve ever heard of.
The cities were overgrown in days, but the things, although it might have been just one big thing by that time, well, they hit their stride when they got to open country. Places to root, soil to drink from, animals to lull and consume, they just spread and spread and spread. A huge, crazy-quilt blotch spread over the Bavarian countryside, growing visibly even when viewed from space.
The uninfected areas of the world were arguing their way towards doing something when Pakistan went silent. Cambodia dropped away. Kenya vanished, followed by New Zealand, all of Southern Africa, Taiwan, Peru, the Pacific Rim, the North American Union. Separate outbreaks. Projections indicated that the death of the last human would run neck and neck with the death of the entire ecosystem.
So we dropped back to the proper year, and made it all go away. We don’t solve the problem, we make sure the problem never needs to be solved. Not removing the mistake from existence, but removing it from ever having existed.
For what it’s worth, I’m sorry we have to do this. Your breakthrough would have made you a name for the history books, in many different ways. But, for the sake of 120 Billion people forward of us, I’m more than willing to cast you into an uncertain future. You’ll still be a genius, after all.
You won’t remember any of this, just like all the other times we’ve met and I’ve done this to you. You just can’t seem to stop with the world-shattering inventions. Three more of these and we give you a neat tattoo you’ll never know how you got.
Well, time to get to it. This is gonna hurt like hell.
