by submission | Mar 11, 2011 | Story
Author : Erik Goranson
Jane and Ellis floated parallel to one another across the vast canvas of space, eyeing the marble-like planets that slowly crept past them. Their skin reflected the starlight with a dull orange sheen. Ellis had called it ‘planet gazing,’ an activity he apparently thought suitable for a date.
“Do you see that one below us?” Ellis said, pointing to a round blue mass.
Jane shrugged.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” he asked. “I’ll bet it’s beautiful on the surface, too. Like the way the dust begins to spiral when a star is forming.”
“Something like that,” Jane said. She didn’t understand his excitement. Planets were nothing interesting. They were just stars without the fire; black holes without the absence of color; asteroids with an atmosphere. They were just specks of light that littered the sky. The only remotely interesting thing she knew about planets was that the gas in their atmosphere were extremely lethal. Big whoop, she thought. Floating, atmospheric rocks of death. Ellis sure knew how to impress a girl.
“I’ve read about how gravity works differently down there,” Ellis said. “You wouldn’t be weightless anymore. You’d have to rely on your muscles to get around. You’d have to pry yourself off the ground and,” he paused, thinking. “walk. That’s what it was called. ‘Walking.'”
Jane was skeptical. “But how would you survive the gases?”
He hesitated. “With hazmat suits?”
“We’d only need suits?”
“And a place to live, I guess. But we could send some terranauts down there and have them build some pods or something,” he said.
Jane wasn’t impressed. So planets were atmospheric rocks of death that they could live on. So what? She was starting to think Ellis was a fool with his head stuck in a childhood fantasy.
“Would that really be worth it?” she asked. “It seems like you’d be constantly working to keep the nature out. Seems like it would be a pain.”
“You really think so?” Ellis said. “I think life’d be much better down there.”
“In an environment that could kill you?”
He nodded. “It’s beautiful down there. There are mountains of rock that would trace the sky; oceans of hydrogen that would reflect the starlight. Down there, the atmosphere would affect the spectrum of light. There would be color everywhere—sunlight alone would be more magnificent down there than we’ve ever seen. And with that kind of beauty, our petty problems would disappear. We’d stop being so careless and arrogant down there. We wouldn’t fight over money and resources and religion down there. We’d be too distracted by the beauty of it all. We’d finally come together.”
Jane felt her disapproval fading. It was a wonderful vision, a world without conflict. “Maybe you’re right,” she said.
“Maybe?” Ellis asked. “Wouldn’t you be stunned by that kind of beauty?”
“Too bad it’s only a dream,” she said.
Ellis wrapped an arm around her, and to her surprise, she welcomed it.
“Just you wait,” he said. “Someday we’ll walk down there.”
by submission | Mar 5, 2011 | Story
Author : Brian Varcas
There was no doubt about it. That was definitely Hendrix!
Brad had every recording the legendary guitarist had ever made, including every bootleg live performance. He could easily tell the difference between the real thing and the myriad of guitarists who tried to play like Hendrix, and this was the real deal. The only trouble was Brad had never heard this song before! Oh yes, and the small matter that the sound appeared to emanate from the vicinity of the Procyon double star system, around 11.402 light years away!
Brad had been volunteering at the SETI Institute for 3 ½ years, laboriously scanning radio frequencies for any signals that might indicate intelligence. Anything with a discernable pattern. He’d found absolutely nothing, until now!
Brad wanted to try to clean up the signal but he’d lost it. He set the computerised frequency scanner to review its history and, after a couple of minutes he got the signal back but the music had changed. Now the liquid lightening of Jimi’s Fender Stratocaster was gone. Instead, he was listening to a singer he instantly recognised, and this time he knew the song!
“My God, it’s Jim Morrison!” Brad announced to himself. He turned up the volume to listen to a fantastic reworking of the Doors classic, “Riders on the Storm”.
When the song had finished the signal was still being received but there was nothing that Brad could understand. Again, he fiddled with the computer programme to try to improve the sound quality but it was just white noise as far as he could tell.
Then the music started again. Brad couldn’t believe his ears! It was John Lennon singing “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”, but more trippy and psychedelic than the Sgt. Pepper version. Brad was completely blown away.
And so it went on for the next 20 minutes. Brad heard Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, Nick Drake and Jeff Buckley all performing either new songs or new versions of classics. Between each song was the dissonant white noise.
“Wow! All these great rock stars who had died too young still rocking away somewhere out in space.”
Brad could think only that he’d somehow tuned into Rock ‘n’ Roll Heaven! The next song confirmed that view…”Well since my baby left me…I’ve found a new place to dwell…It’s down at the end of Lonely Street…Heartbreak Hotel” It was Elvis himself, no mistake!
The song finished and the White noise started up again. As an experiment, Brad launched the new language decoding software he was testing and, following the instructions, played all the white noise sections which had been recorded. The software analysed the sound and, after a few minutes began to put together some suggested translations based upon repeated sound patterns. None of them made any sense at all and Brad was about to close the programme but stopped when he began reading the final suggestion.
“I don’t believe it!” He said out loud. “If this is Galactic Intelligence and Culture they can keep it!” He printed out the final suggestion and closed the programme. He transferred the music he’d recorded to his iPod and then deleted the original recordings.
As he left the Institute for the final time he shook his head in disbelief as he read the print out:
“Thank you very much ladies and gentlemen. Well, you’ve heard all the contestants from Earth now it’s up to you to decide who will be back next week for the next round of “The Galaxy’s Got Talent!”
by submission | Feb 27, 2011 | Story
Author : Damien Krsteski
“So, will you finally tell me why we’re here?” The ice cubes rattled as Jane drank the remaining drops of her orange juice and vodka cocktail. “I hate it when you’re so secretive.”
Nick smiled and slurped his vodka. Krylania was a wondrous place. With its small size, even surface and perfect distance from Sol, it was most certainly his favorite asteroid. A place he often called his own.
One he used to visit in times of doubt or when he lacked perspective, to acquire a sense of belonging, marvel at the immensity of the cosmos, to think things through.
But mostly, he used to come for the distance it provided between himself and the others. Something he inherited from his father- the desire to be left alone.
The day before he’d met her was his last trip to the asteroid. He had never told her a single word about Krylania, or what it all meant to him.
Now, two and a half years later, they were there, tanning on his yellow beach chairs, drinking alcohol with cute umbrellas in their glasses. Above their heads, space was dark and endless.
“Jane,” he said softly, “when my father left the Swarm and erased himself, I realized something.”
She stopped chewing her straw, and set the glass down.
A clumsy grin stretched Nick’s mouth and he said, “I realized I hate this place.” He got on his feet and scooped up the vodka bottle, clutching it firmly by its neck. “He never understood our society, Jane. Never.” He waved the bottle around a bit, then took a sip. “He thought it’s good to be alone. He told me I should be a distinguished individual. He never bought the whole nanotech hivemind hocus pocus.” He poked his chest with his thumb. “Heck, even I didn’t back then.”
Jane eyed him sympathetically. He dragged his chair next to hers and sat down.
He passed her the alcohol, then said quietly, “But after all that’s happened, I think I finally do.” She drank.
Then he did too.
“I brought you here to show you something,” he said, got up and pulled her to her feet. “Come.”
The two walked hand-in-hand on the asteroid’s dusty surface, barefoot and naked, their artificial bodies unscathed by space radiation, minds separated by a great distance from everyone else, isolated, alone. For the time being, they were only with one another.
A short distance later, they arrived at a large irregular bump on the surface, and climbed on it. Before them, preceded by a neverending gap of vacuous space, was Sol, shining brightly their way.
“Once in a couple of years this rock passes through a much bigger asteroid cloud,” said Nick, hand raised up before his eyes. “It is happening now.” He pointed at the empty space before them. “Watch.”
As he spoke, the blinding rays of sunshine were interrupted by a massive cluster of small asteroids in all shapes and sizes. They sailed graciously by, as if riding on the crest of a giant lightwave, soaring faster and faster until they blocked out the sunlight in its entirety. Jane ducked instinctively, as the group of rocks cast a cold shadow over them. It was sunset on asteroid Krylania.
Nick put his hand around her shoulder.
“Thanks,” he said. “For being you. For being here. And for being a part of what we are.”
It was over as soon as it began. The cluster of rocks passed quietly out of view, and the sun was back up. Jane nodded, and leaned over to kiss him. Moments later, both of them rejoined the rest of their race, leaving the asteroid far behind.
They could hardly wait to share the experience with the others.
by submission | Feb 26, 2011 | Story
Author : Jason Verch
Fred sat quietly as they finished attaching the myriad of sensors to him. Dr. Samuels, the man in charge of the experiment, fitted an oxygen mask over his face and said, “That’s everything.”
“Don’t worry,” Dr. Samuels said, “we’ve got everything covered. Heart rate, respiration, brain activity, real time blood analysis. If anything goes wrong we’ll know immediately and bring you out of it.”
“You know Doc,” Fred said, “when I joined the space program I thought I’d be visiting Alpha Centauri or something. I didn’t think I’d by lying in a hospital bed on Earth.”
“Oh come on, all that ‘space – the final frontier’ stuff is so cliché’. We send men into space every day, that’s not pioneering any more, this is exciting, you are entering the inner frontier” the doctor assured him. He picked a needle up off a nearby table and injected a milky substance into the IV bag attached to Fred’s arm. “Try the relaxation exercises we talked about, they should help.”
All his training in the space program, all his time in combat with the special forces, and what did they want him to do? Lie still and try to relax. He tried the breathing exercises. He tried counting backwards from a thousand. Hell, he even imagined he was in his happy place. Anything he could do to relax, but he still felt fully alert, and tense. Finally, despite himself, the drugs started to take hold. He slowly felt reality slipping away. Just as everything went black, he had one final thought: This must be what it is like to die.
In the next room, an assortment of doctors and scientists watched the sensor outputs. “Respiration and heartbeat steady. Look at the pattern of this brain activity, it’s unbelievable. We have definite success.” Dr. Samuels said. A few of the other men in the room exchanged handshakes; some patted the doctor on the back. They all seemed relieved.
“Doctor, are you sure we should continue?” the program director asked. Nearly an hour had passed since the start of the experiment.
“He is in no danger. He appears lifeless but his brain and body are functioning perfectly. Remember, there was a time when sessions of 10 hours or more were considered quite normal.” Dr. Samuels responded.
“Yes but that was thousands of years ago, nobody has tried this in recent history.”
“Exactly, so every minute of data we can collect is incredibly valuable.”
“Another 15 minutes, then bring him out of it. We can extend it for the next session.”
“But sir if we -” the doctor cut himself off. The argument was moot; the monitors went crazy with activity as Fred shot up in his bed and shouted, “It’s coming right at us!”
Dr. Samuels rushed to his side, “It’s ok Fred. It wasn’t real. You are in the hospital, the experiment was a success, just relax. Here, drink this,” he handed Fred a cup containing a hot black liquid “It should help with the after effects.”
Fred took a few tentative sips, he didn’t care for it much, it was bitter and earthy, but it did seem to help clear the fog from his mind.
“What is this?”
“It’s an ancient traditional remedy made from ground beans. It is called ‘coffee’.”
“Interesting.” Fred murmured.
“So tell me,” Dr. Samuels said excitedly, “What was it like? How did it feel? You are going to be a famous man you know. Just think, you are the first human being to sleep in over two thousand years!”
by submission | Feb 19, 2011 | Story
Author : Ron Wingrove
Discovery of the Omniflower should have been one of the greatest of the 23rd century. It happened on a distant planet, to a ragged crew from an equally-shabby exploration ship. Anybody who could cobble together an FTL drive went into exploration. Most never made it back.
The landing was hard with the heavy gravity, but the ship got down safely. The captain had one important question to ask his science officer.
“There air outside?”
“Yes sir, but…”
“It’ll do… MAC!” A dirty face appeared round the hatch to Engineering.
“Yeah, boss?”
“Make sure nothing broke after that bump. We’re going for a walk.”
The crew was met just outside a settlement by an alien. Yellow skin, vaguely human. The captain was a more casual than the movies liked.
“Kwishath ack narothdack?”
“Sure, man. We come in peace, and leave in pieces, and stuff. Yeah.”
“Astana retoothka? Squirly a chondack?”
“Yep, that too… What the hell is that?”
“That” was a short plant that appeared by the alien’s feet. It grew from a seedling to a small bush, put out some blue leaves and one fruit, then died back to nothing in the space of a few seconds. Totally calm, the alien bent down to pick the blue fruit. He broke it open, removed something from inside, and handed it to the stunned captain.
“So, what’s this? ‘English-Narothdack phrasebook?’ You gotta be kidding me!”
Flicking through the pages, the captain looked for one specific phrase, and found it in a chapter marked Social Colloquialisms for Informal Occasions.
“What in God’s name is going on? Kveesta unacktra ban de plositch?”
Plositch was the closest the language could come to God.
It meant “Small blue plant that provides us with all we need.”
With the phrasebook, the alien explained to the spacefarers. It was called the Plositch, and popped up wherever something was needed. Dinnertime? One would open with your favourite food. Nighttime? A larger one, with a bedroll. Predator attack? A long one would open containing a spear. All you had to do was imagine a flower opening nearby, and what it would contain. The captain named them Omniflowers.
A week later, and it was time to go. Efforts to make the omniflower grow anywhere other than the surface failed, but there were no limits to what it could make. When Mac dropped his ancient pocket watch in a stream and wished for a new one, it was discovered that the plant could produce complex mechanisms, and the captain figured out a way of making some serious money. The ship’s library had pictures of collectables, and the omniflowers produced crates of small “antiques.” A moment of whimsy produced a large gold watch. It fitted nicely into a pocket of the captain’s jumpsuit, just right for timing the lift-off.
“5… 4… 3, first stage ignition… 2… 1… Lift-off, we have lift-off, retracting landing gear…” A pause. “Altitude 35,000 meters, standby for second stage ignition…”
“Hey, that’s not right!” The captain’s shout made everyone turn and stare. Instead of a watch, his hand held a pile of greenish slime. A second later, it had dried to dust.
“Oh, bad luck, captain. The things made by the plants can’t leave the surface either. That means those crates are gone, too.”
“Second stage ignition in 5… 4… 3… 2, first stage shutdown complete… 1…” An ominous silence. “Second stage ignition failure! Mac, what’s up with your engines?”
Mac went deathly pale.
“Boss? The second stage fuel pump! Needed replacement, but we didn’t have one…”
“Yes?”
“I replaced it with one from a plant.”
