by submission | Aug 17, 2006 | Story |
Author : J. S. Kachelries
The spaceship was shaped like a flattened football. It had no obvious external doors or windows. Although it appeared to be metallic, we couldn’t cut it, penetrate it with X-rays, or scratch it with a diamond. The only thing we had to evaluate was an encrypted panel on the port side that contained a ten by ten matrix of symbols and buttons. The ship was being guarded by a platoon of heavily armed solders. General Arthur McBride’s angry face was inches from mine. “Goddamnit, Professor, you’ve been studding this blasted thing for a week. Can you open it or not?â€
“I believe so, general,†I said. “I believe the key is this panel. Look at the first four black symbols. They contain two, three, five, and seven dots each, respectively. Obviously, it’s a prime number sequence. The six white buttons immediately next to them contain eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, and thirteen dots. The next prime number in the sequence is eleven. Therefore, the correct answer is the fourth white button. There are nine more “questions,†each one more difficult than the one above it. The last four involve Newtonian physics, general relativity, quantum mechanics, and string theory. I think that when you answer all ten questions correctly, something will happen, possibly the ship will open. The odds of answering all ten questions correctly at random are 60,466,176 to one. Therefore, the beings that sent this ship only want an intelligent species to decipher the lock. Apparently, they can’t be bothered with dumb life.â€
“If you know the correct answers Professor, enter them now.â€
Against my better judgment, I depressed the appropriate buttons. Seconds later, a door slid open. The spaceship was empty, except for a one foot metallic cube in the center.
The general peered inside, smiling ear to ear. “Fantastic! If we can figure out this technology, our dominance will become absolute. No more commies, no more religious fanatics, no more goddamn peace lovin’ liberal scum interfering with our campaign to preserve the American way of life. How long to you can figure out how this thing works?â€
“Whoa, slow down general,†I pleaded. “I’m not so sure this ship can be perverted into a weapon. I need some time to figure out why we needed an intelligence test to open it. There must be a logical reason. I have some ideas what this ship is, but I need time to think about it.â€
“Professor, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think. Figure it out A.S.A.P., understood!†The general turned and entered the spaceship. An instant later, the door slammed shut, and the spaceship shot upward through the hangar roof.
As I stared at the stars through the twenty foot hole, I said to no one in particular, “For instance, general, I think this spaceship could be used to collect specimens of alien ‘intelligent’ life, capture them, and bring them to a laboratory for study.†I’m predicting that the general will make a ‘damn’ interesting specimen.
by submission | Aug 16, 2006 | Story |
Author : Ian Burke
“Today†marks the end of history. Yesterday it was June 25th, 1995 AD (CE, if you prefer). “Today†can be marked in no such terms. Yesterday, “today†was the 26th of June, but “now,†none of that matters anymore. This “morning,†the Hole opened up – the Hole, which began in the year formerly known as 2309 and “now†reaches back to what “was†“today.†“Now†the fourth dimension is just as easily navigable as the first three.
But it will not stop “here.†The hole will continue to tunnel back through history, tearing up the past. There is talk of trying to save a small part of the timeline – a true historical preserve! – although the methods behind this are unclear at best. The Hole will not stop until it stretches to the soon-to-be former Beginning of Time and our universe, once a long string of yesterdays, will become one single “today.â€
by J.R. Blackwell | Aug 15, 2006 | Story
Author : J.R.Blackwell, Staff Writer
The teacher, the senticyborg and the children sat in a circle on logs in the woods. In the beginning of the semester they had constructed their outdoor classroom as an assignment in team building. The canopy above them made patterns of yellow light on the soft grass.
“Who can tell me who our world is named after?” Asked the teacher. A few of the older children rolled their eyes – this was old material for them.
Reading their social signals, the senticyborg prompted one of the older children. “If you know the story, please share with those who do not. I will assist you in the telling.”
This excited the children, who enjoyed the interactive storytelling feature of the senticyborg, which would change shape depending on the stories that the children told. Usually, the senticyborg was silver and blue, but it could change to many shapes and colors to help teach the children.
“Well,” said the child “Our planet is named after a mythological 20th century Princess. This Princess was very strong, and no matter what she faced, she could overcome all problems.” The senticyborg changed shape into the figure of a striking woman with long dark hair. “This Princess was one of the greatest fighters the world has ever known, a master of medicine, and a great leader.”
The primary teacher folded her hands on her lap. “Can someone else tell us about what the circle that the Princess carried represents?”
A younger child stood up, holding a green leaf. “Um, it represents the connection of things with each other. People can throw things out and it will come back to them.”
“That’s right.” Said the primary teacher. “Her circle is a weapon, a method of protection but it is also a symbol of community. On the celebration of our liberation from the Corporate Beltway, we make circles of food or jewelry and give them to each other to represent our common link, and our dedication to protecting our community.” The senticyborg was showing her metal circle to the children.
“Can we learn to fight like the Princess?” asked one of the girls.
“The Princess believed in protecting people, so maybe instead of learning to fight, we should learn to protect each other, what do you think?”
“Can the Princess teach us?” asked a child
“Yeah!” cried out one of the children. “Can the Princess do it?”
“Maybe if she catches the right program file, we can do a little bit of training.”
The senticyborg spoke. “I have found the correct program for this training.”
The teacher clapped her hands. “Wonderful.”
“After this, can we hear the story of how we got the second sun?” said an older child.
The teacher grinned. “Of course children, we will learn about our world, our suns, and all of man’s two hundred colonies.”
by Stephen R. Smith | Aug 14, 2006 | Story |
Author : Steve Smith, Staff Writer
Cyrus curled in the corner, hugging his aching legs to his chest as though they might crawl off without him were he to let them go. White hot grains of sand glassified in his retinas, and beads of sweat scraped down his flesh, each one making it’s presence felt with excruciating persistence. It may only have been a few hours, but it felt like days since he’d last had a shot. Time had ceased to be a relevant commodity, as he couldn’t trade it for a fix. He felt his stomach heave, but the sensation never left the empty pit of his gut.
“Commander, you seem to be poorly” the words ground their way through the haze as a face loomed in his field of vision, the image slightly out of sync with the noise coming from it as words. Double lids twitched over glistening emerald eyes, startling in their clarity, in sharp contrast to the shifting chitin and dancing shadows beyond.
“Please…” the sound of his own voice made him wince “please, I know you have some, help me.”
“Commander Cyrus,” the eyes slipped backwards into the darkness, the voice booming all around him now “surely you appreciate that these recreational pharmaceuticals you’re asking for, these require currency that you simply do not have”
“I’ve got other things, we can trade, I know things.” Pain shot like lancets up his spine to burst as cannon fire deep within his skull. Never had he suffered withdrawal this exquisitely painful before.
“Trade? Knowledge? Interesting.” There was an elongated pause, as the voice considered his offer “Perhaps you can help me with…” the was a pause again as the next words were carefully chosen “a freight difficulty.’ The face loomed once more in his peripheral vision, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn and look at it. “If one were to want to move cargo through the Earth shield, without interference, would you know how that could be accomplished? Could you help me with that?”. The articulation of each word made Cyrus flinch.
“If I help you, you’ll hook me up? No tricks?” There was a level of desperate excitement in his voice, one that brought what may have passed for a smile to the face of the towering creature.
“Yes, if you help me with my… transportation issue… I promise you will not suffer like this again”
“There was a mining portal on the dark side of the moon, beneath the old InterStar hangers” the words came surprisingly freely through the drumming pain in his skull “it’s been closed for decades, but the power station still works, and the portal’s still stable.” He burrowed his chin into his knees, his brain screaming with anticipation of relief.
“Thank you, Commander, you’ve been most helpful.” The great green face slipped out of the periphery to stare at Cyrus, face to face. “You and your people have taught us so much.”
“Taught? We haven’t taught you anything…” he waited anxiously, one arm relaxing it’s grip on his shins to expose his hypocite to the promise of an injector.
“Oh, we have learned much from your race my dear Commander Cyrus. You have no idea. We watched your people everywhere trading currency and flesh for chemical joy. We never could have conceived of a negotiating tool as powerful as addiction, or a lever as effective as your narcotics. Who would have thought the secrets of your civilization’s safe keeping, entrusted to military men like yourself, could be so freely liberated in exchange for something as trivial as a moment of manufactured ecstasy. But most of all, we’d forgotten how much more expedient violent conquest was when compared to traditional diplomatic relations. Oh yes, you humans have taken us back to our roots, and you’ve catapulted us far into our own futures.’ A vice like grip suddenly had Cyrus’ forearm, pulling it straight and holding it motionless. ‘Now, Commander, I do believe we had a deal, and I think you’ll find this generous enough to alleviate your conscience.’
The warm flood rippled up the Commanders arm, rolling in waves to his toes and up and over his head. For a moment, the room became strikingly clear, he saw the giant chitin plated alien that had first offered him a fix in a bar off base, coached him through his first purchase, and had always been around to hook him up when he needed a fresh hit. What was that on his chest, a military insignia? Was he a soldier? Pounding waves flooded through his head, and he was only momentarily aware of the feed, still jutting skyward from his forearm, as it relieved him of all responsibility.
by submission | Aug 13, 2006 | Story |
Author : Hannah F.
The man of Saiyen was small and nervous-looking, not nearly as mystical as I expected, wandering into these ancient strongholds; like a Peasant or maybe a half-blood Noble boy, the kind that spent the days with their faces in paper.
“Is that a crossbow? Fascinating,†he said hurriedly. This was a panic reaction; I let him go, knowing sooner or later he’d run out of chatter and shut his teeth. “Obviously the surveillance devices haven’t been working but we’d theorized that the environment lacked enough stability for your society to develop even this kind of basic automation in your projectile weapons…†He was sweating and I had to chew my tongue to avoid a grin. I’d only caught about half of that ‘cos of his accent, but I understood the important part. He didn’t know what I wanted, so he’d started to babble, hoping I’d latch onto some topic and get the bolt out of his face more quickly.
I took a careful step back and laid the weapon down, still drawn and dangerous. The Saiyentist looked at it blankly. He knew what it was and what it was for, could wager what it’d feel like if I used it, but didn’t seem eager to try wresting it from me.
Eyes on him I unlaced the hard-hide pouch at my belt and lifted the cloth-wrapped vial from it. The glass tube and its case were from my uncle, a gift after my Modding. He’d dug it from the ruins of a building like this one, an eerily smooth white shell he’d never been able to find again.
“I want more of this,†I said, and folded back the soft, thick wool, cupping the thing in my hand in case the small man tried to snatch it, or dash it to the floor. The crossbow, though, cautioned him and he merely regarded the light-blue liquid with wide eyes.
“Where did you get that?†he began, but changed his mind when he saw the look in my eyes. “Do you know what it is?â€
“I’ve been told it’s a poison, but only to certain natures. Won’t slay a man, but it’ll break down a dragon to its elements in under an arc.â€
“It’s an emergency denaturing solution. It works by breaking down the chemicals in the cells and-†I was curious as a kitten but I must’ve looked impatient. “The important thing is, it works the way you say it does. Which is why we’ve kept it here in Obbsreg. But if you brought back a significant amount- even if we had a significant amount- it would interfere with the Ancestral Plan. As much as I’d like to help you I’m as bound by my forebears as you are.†He frowned. “You shouldn’t even be here, of course…â€
“Wait.†If I had understood what he just said, I was about to be very, very angry. “You mean your ancestors are responsible for keeping the drake-poison from my people?†I tied off the laces of my pouch and retrieved my crossbow. “And you just… what? Study us?â€
The Saiyentist frowned at that, in spite of the terror that’d returned to his face. After a moment puzzling my assumption out, he began to laugh. I could do nothing but stare as he worked out his panic in a giggle-fit, wiping tears from eyes that were still wide ‘cos of the proximity of my crossbow to his gut.
“Who said anything about my ancestors being responsible for this?â€
I was going to have one hell of a tale, whenever I got home. “Tell me everything.â€
