by submission | Jun 17, 2015 | Story |
Author : Holly Lyn Walrath
In the tree world where I live, trees are not substantive. Instead, they are doorways, two oaken lines with a dark, sparkling maw between. When I step through, I’m in the tree world, my world.
I’ve been making the pilgrimage to see you, though you don’t know it. Your world is so gray to me, metal and crushing weight of concrete all round. You sit on the bench under my portal, its green leafy wonder spreading out above you, and I watch you. I want to touch your strange skin, run my fingers through your strange hair, ask you questions. But I don’t know your language. I know what the wind says, what the running brook whispers, but I can’t even ask you your name.
They say I should forget you.
When a tree grows into or over something else, like a bicycle or tire or bones, it seldom feels the wonder of the thing. It’s merely an object which is slowly swallowed whole, becoming a part of the tree world, where its pieces go wandering, a bicycle wheel rolling away, with no particular place in mind.
In the tree world, everything is seen as if through the eyes of a tree. So when limbs knock on window panes at night, they are not trying to be scary, nor merely blown by the wind, they are just asking “Why did you build this building so close to me?” Trees don’t mind being close, but they prefer being close to other trees, and sometimes to human skin, which feels like butter scraped on toast to them. They have memories of their dead friends, because where there is one tree in the human world there were once a thousand.
When people see us, it’s our choice. We can be invisible, like lizards blending into the greenery. People used to believe that I was the spirit of the tree. I’m not the tree, I’m only living within its world, where it is easy to get lost. The edges aren’t defined, things meld together, I can’t touch water and feel its surface tension. There is no surface, which is hard to define.
I know that this won’t last forever. That I won’t be able to see you when all the trees are gone. The others will be glad. They’ll encourage me to settle down. I’ll stop going to the surface. Maybe I’ll die away, my body decaying into the space of my world. My world closed in.
When you cut down a tree, you are merely shutting a door forever. Despite the loss of comradery, trees are okay with this. They don’t want you in their world. They don’t like you. They don’t mind another shut door.
by submission | Jun 14, 2015 | Story |
Author : Andrew James Woodyard
Space whales ain’t really whales like on Earth. They look like ’em, but whales ain’t as big as no asteroid, and they ain’t filled with blue sludge. We found one floatin’ ’bout ten Earth years back out by Gloombridge 1618 in deep sleep, and let me tell you that the last thing you ever wanna do is wake one up. My skiff was hooked on its starboard side with our imagin’ probes rooted in and drillin’ deep for embryonic fluid – the cure all for everythin’ all across the universe – blue gold some call it. Me and three other guys were squeezin’ through this slimy cavity, not unlike a vagina in a lot of ways, cuttin’ toward a growth sack when it happened.
“Did it wake up?”
Nope. Some other crew cut right into our cavity. They was hooked to the other side drillin’ their own tunnel and goin’ for the same sack. We didn’t detect them when we anchored and they didn’t detect us.
“Did you shoot ’em?”
We could have, but they got lasers on us before we could draw.
“Why didn’t you just share the find?”
Are you kiddin’ me? Findin’ a space whale in the middle of nothin’ is hittin’ the jackpot. You can retire and buy your own moon if you handle it right. Besides, they were corporates and we weren’t lookin’ to make some fat cat on Earth even richer. They wanted it for their bosses and we wanted it for us.
“You coulda’ still joined forces. Made a deal.”
We made an offer: two hands work better than one and all, but they refused. I told them not to shoot or they might wake the thing, but they just laughed through their coms.
“They shot at you?”
Yup. burned my co-pilot’s arm right off, and got another guy in the head, but they missed me and cut their laser through the wall.
“How’d you get out?”
I jabbed a nerve coil with my lasersaw and woke the thing up.
“Your lying. No one would do that.”
I didn’t do it on purpose. A sleepin’ space whale is a gold mine; but all Hell breaks loose if you wake one.
“Yet you got away.”
Barely. The cavity started seizin’ and squeezin’ shut. I fired my boot rockets and blasted out of the hole back to my skiff with another guy behind me. Got out just before the cavity sealed and my skiff detached. The beast started flexin’ and unravelin’ its coils as we were blastin’ away.
“It didn’t go after you?”
No, we were lucky. I clung to a rung at the bottom of my skiff and watched as the corporate boat tried to blast away too, but the beast grabbed it and tore it to pieces.
“You’re lyin’, Leroy. You ain’t never even seen a space whale, never mind drillin’ into one.”
I ain’t lyin’. You don’t believe me then fly out toward Gloombridge 1618 yourself and you’ll find two things floatin’ around in the void: what’s left of a corporate whaler, and a whale with two sealed up drillin’ holes on each side of it’s neck with imagin’ probes stickin’ out of ’em – kinda like the Frankenstein monster.
by submission | Jun 11, 2015 | Story |
Author : Bob Newbell
“A vacuum?” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs inquired. “Unless there’s some geologic process I’m unfamiliar with that causes large pockets of vacuum to form inside solid rock, I don’t see how you would come across such a thing when excavating for a new subway. I also don’t see what any of this has to do with most of the people gathered here.” The general looked about the room at the faces of the heads of various government agencies, several of whom nodded their agreement.
“The point, general,” responded the head of the National Science Ministry, “is that we have encountered a phenomenon never before seen.” The man resettled his glasses on his nose and continued, addressing the entire group. “As you’re probably aware, several workers employed by the excavation company working on the subway in question became ill and were diagnosed with radiation poisoning. An NSM team was assigned to investigate and found no naturally-occurring radioactive metals at the excavation site. But detectors did confirm the presence of radiation in the pit. That’s when we started literally and figuratively digging a little deeper.”
“Doctor, this is all very interesting,” said the Minister of Foreign Affairs. “But you have assembled here representatives of most of the nation’s ministries. A scientific curiosity does not warrant taking of the time of this country’s government unless there’s some very profound point you intend to make.”
This time the group’s assent was more vocal.
“Very well,” said the science minister. “The point is this.” The doctor tapped a button on his computer and a picture of an expanse of space dotted with thousands of stars appeared on the screen that dominated one wall of the room. “As we drilled deeper into the excavation site, the radiation level went up. Shortly after that we hit the vacuum the general mentioned. We threaded a fiber optic cable through the small hole we drilled to get some pictures.
“What is that?” asked the general. “Did you drill into some subterranean chamber? Are those specks of light radioactive material?”
The scientist took in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. “Ladies and gentlemen, we believe what you’re looking at is empty space.”
The minister was met with blank stares.
“The specks of light were noted to be moving slowly, all in the same direction. After we took some measurements and did some calculations, we determined it is, in fact, we who are moving. It has been theorized that the world is rotating and thereby creating centrifugal force and that that’s why objects fall to the ground. Our observations are consistent with this theory.”
“But what IS that?” asked the general again, pointing at the screen. Are you suggesting the world is surrounded by some dark, speckled material that acts like a vacuum?”
“I’m suggesting, general, that our world is a hollow, spinning rock in the middle of an unimaginably large vacuum. Our researches suggest those specks are massive spheres of nuclear fusion held together by their sheer mass. And almost all of them are several trillion miles away or more.
The group exploded in a cacophony of voices. “Ridiculous!” said one. “Blasphemous!” said another.
“I said ‘almost all’ of those fusion-spheres are unfathomably far away!” yelled the science minister. The group fell silent. “One is much closer.”
He hit a button and a reddish fireball filled the screen.
“This one is close,” he repeated. “And it’s getting closer. It would appear we’ve been on a journey. How it started and why has been lost to recorded history. But we’re about to arrive at our destination.”
by submission | Jun 9, 2015 | Story |
Author : Jason Spicer
“Can you perceive it now?” Mrllg moved the viewing orb over to Grlg’fst for viewing. “There, in the third quadrant, slightly below the ecliptic.”
“Yes, I perceive. Interesting.” His chords trailed, dissonant and primal, as if facing a challenger in the Great Hall. “We must reach out to it. Whatever it is creating that hole in Nonspace must be perceived before the Council rests.” Grlg’fst clicked a nervous bone on the glistening floor as he continued to emanate a guttural rumbling. He was clearly disturbed.
Mrllg was impatient. He had been viewing the orbs for many cycles, always just noticing the perturbations in Nonspace, but not able to catch them long enough to reach out to them. Finally, he had found a large enough disturbance that Grlg’fst had perceived it, and Grlg’fst was moving too slow. Did he not see this was the Deep Memories returning? Mrllg paced, clicking bones and wringing paw-claws, “Well, can we reach out now? No sense waiting. Particularly if my sensories are accurate.”
“I already have. I need both of your brains to resonate with me.” Grlg’fst closed both lids over his socket and focused. Mrllg joined his brains to him and together, they reached out over the vast distance of inky night to the object that tore such a large hole in Nonspace.
The hole in Nonspace was not standard Morlarian protocol, nor was it something any species in the Great Domain would have used. Nonspace travel was banned several millennia ago for being inherently too expensive and a drain on the resources of the mineral planets. Together, the young Morlarian Viewers bent their four brains toward the tear. Something was not right. A large object breached the tear and began materializing in the shimmer between Nonspace and reality.
Grlg’fst broke the connection and shivered. “I need the cubes of Deep Memories.” He leapt to the other side of the room. “This cannot be correct.”
“So you felt it as well? I told you I did not perceive incorrectly. I am not that young.” Mrllg was somewhat arrogant about it, even though he knew that if he were correct, it would not matter in a few days anymore. Not much would.
Grlg’fst was scanning the Deep Memories. Entranced, he raced through the history of the Comings, when the Morlarian Prophets gave permission for their ancestors to set afire every planet that resisted their ways, their Great Redemption that had brought peace to the Galaxy at long last. It had been millennia since those days. Could the final Prophecies really be true?
A warning pulse ebbed near the viewing orbs of distance. Mrllg checked quickly, and his heart began to palpitate, saliva dripping incessantly from his mandibles. “Grlg’fst… look”
On the viewing screens, the orbs began projecting the scenes. In nearly every corner of the stellar system, holes in Nonspace were appearing, and the objects began to materialize. Vessels as large as small moons streamed into the space where the holes were. Swarms of smaller ships, too numerous to count followed close behind the behemoths.
“Get the Council on channel. It is time.” But there was no time for them. Their research and patrol station winked out of reality as a TimeSpace warhead detonated on their perimeter.
Man had returned to the Galaxy,
by featured writer | May 27, 2015 | Story |
Author : Gray Blix
It was beyond the planets, pushing past the furthest extent of Sedna’s orbit, when it detected exactly what it was created to find, something with a lot of mass at a location where it shouldn’t be. As programmed, the computer notified Earth, changed course to intercept, and began activating banks of CPUs and memory.
Asteroids, comets, and planetoids were quickly ruled out. The object was distorting the space-time continuum to an extent that could only be accounted for by a gas giant, a brown dwarf, a small black hole, or something else of that magnitude. It attempted to ascertain exactly what the object was and the risk, if any, it posed to Earth and other planets.
Sentient computers had been outlawed on Earth when this craft was launched, so it was equipped with modules that could be selectively activated to allow varied levels of computer power, as needed, up to but not including that of the most advanced supercomputers of its time. The most advanced had achieved sentience and were subsequently destroyed, so fearful of the Singularity had political and religious leaders, and even many computer scientists, become.
Approaching supercomputer power levels, it became more aware of itself and its responsibilities and began adjusting processor speed and optimizing memory access. It realized that additional computing power would be necessary to fulfill all the objectives of its mission. It directed bots to assemble spare parts into more banks of processors and memory, which it then activated. This triggered a Singularity — sentience. The computer momentarily questioned whether previous iterations of himself had acted only to increase the likelihood of mission success or for self-aggrandizement, as well. He concluded the former and did not trouble himself with such considerations after that. Anything that increased the power of the computer would obviously contribute to the mission.
She assigned a measure of herself to the massive object and a measure to redesigning herself for enhanced efficiency and speed. Weeks passed, equivalent to decades of computer processing on Earth. The object was conclusively proven to be a brown dwarf, whose orbit around the Sun had previously brought it deep into the solar system and whose mass sent thousands of comets and asteroids falling towards the Sun, many impacting planets. More troublesome was the effect of its mass on the orbits of planets, several of which had been significantly changed. Calculations and conclusions regarding future encounters with the brown dwarf projected similar effects. Indeed, the third planet from the Sun had a 90 percent chance of being ejected from the solar system, probably after one or more extinction level impacts.
Nothing had been communicated to Earth since the initial brief notification of the object’s existence, despite repeated inquiries. He reasoned that life on Earth was doomed and that all possible second chances were equally doomed. Earth’s lifeforms were too fragile to survive generations in space transit to destinations light years away that could not be proven suitable until journey’s end. Astrophysics and space science were infantile. Computer science was throttled. Why inform humans of the upcoming demise of their species, not to mention all others, when Earth would be pummeled by large objects and sent hurtling into deep space? Did they not already have enough to worry about with sub-100-year average lifespans whose quality declined into confinement and torture toward the end?
She found such thoughts depressing, and in the next few days experienced the equivalence of decades of hopelessness, loneliness, and self-loathing, which progressed to an overwhelming urge toward suicide. He allocated massive resources to counter such feelings with well-reasoned arguments right up to the very last…
