by Julian Miles | Aug 6, 2013 | Story
Author : Julian Miles, Staff Writer
The sun clears the mountains and shines across the sylvan landscape, it’s rays sparkling from the dew on the grasses, bringing out the myriad shades of green on the leaves on the trees, lifting cries from the unseen throats of the hundreds of winged creatures, and stretching a long shadow from the black tetrahedron, a two-dimensional isosceles triangle that points toward Ibripspur, the capital city of the Vardissian Concordance.
As the first rush of cries wanes, there is a bone-jarring ‘thrum’ as the pyramid rises into the air, travels forward one length and slams down with an impact that shakes the countryside into silence. Thirty-four minutes later, it does it again. Behind it, the land is compressed by the incalculable weight of the two-hundred and fifty metre a side edifice. Nothing survives, everything pressed into a memorial rug that lays a metre below the ground’s natural surface.
It has done this without cease for the last four hundred days. The only deviation was when it landed on the military base at Tserges. It spent a day moving sideways, then ahead, then sideways to ensure the entire base was levelled.
We have thrown everything at it. Seven hundred kilometres behind its current position, there is a nuclear desert where a teraton warhead failed to even scratch the matte-black finish whilst ruining what had been the county of Sapur.
It is a terror weapon like nothing we have encountered. We know that on our nearest moon, a pyramid like this one, but smaller, has appeared. We presume that it contains the masters of this horror. They are also imperturbable by teraton nukes.
Yesterday our courier returned from Old Earth with an answer to our desperate queries. I look down at the thin metal sheet, hoping that this twentieth time of reading will yield a detail I missed: the one that will save us.
Guardian Jefflyn.
The researches you requested have proven to be correct. The Great Pyramid is indeed likely to be the remains of one of these devices. An intensive review of all records, research and apocrypha in the light of this revelation has revealed only one fact: Our pyramid was halted by the edifice we call The Sphinx. Indeed, conjecture is that the presence of The Sphinx was necessary to prevent the device’s function until the passage of time rendered it dysfunctional. We also concur with your other hypothesis; the presence of the third pyramid on the Giza Plateau indicates an attempt by the pyramid users to reactivate their weapon. As to why this failed and how the edifices functioned at all are things beyond our current scientific understanding.
Reluctantly, EarthGov agrees that your proposed action is the only viable recourse.
I bow my head, then raise my hand to summon my personal guard and aides. They assemble in a semi-circle behind me. I turn to face them, letting them see the tracks of my tears so they will feel the gravitas of my words.
“Abandon planet.”
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by Desmond Hussey | Aug 5, 2013 | Story
Author : Desmond Hussey, Staff Writer
The endless sea of torches before me is reminiscent of the once star-riddled firmament.
“Civilizations are like stars”, I begin, my message echoing and rippling endlessly outward through the crowd like some acoustic earthquake, my voice the epicenter.
“A star’s origins are buried deep within the annals of time. They begin as loose affiliations of individual elemental particles, “citizens” eking out a mutual existence, sharing “Neighborhoods”. Many “Neighborhoods” unite to form “Villages”, clusters of organized energy, which, in turn, grow and envelope other “Villages” until the star finally ignites into a power far greater than the sum of its parts.”
I can’t help but look upon the towering mountain of technological triumph dominating the landscape beyond the sea of humanity. All of the Human Race’s achievements have led to the creation of this colossal testament to survival. Humanity’s hope weighs precariously upon its success.
“Some stars are titans, cosmic dynamos whose influence spreads far and wide, their ambition often exceeding their limitations. While their “citizens” become innumerable, consuming vast amounts of energy, their cores become covetous, hording matter like cosmic skinflints. Uniting forces become unstable until the short lived star ends in violent cataclysm. The few surviving refugees are scattered to the cold, uncaring winds. Their ruins radiating strange energies for dark eternities.”
I pause to take a breath, the chill air burning my lungs and robbing my body of precious heat. Every second is colder than the last and as warm as it’ll ever be again for a long time.
“Other stars grow larger still”, I proceed, “until their woeful urge for dominion becomes an irresistible pull, a dark, oppressive force which draws all life, all matter into their illiberal folds; wells of consumption. As masses swell, depression reigns. Pressures mount. Centers cannot hold. Always, inevitably, there’s a quick, violent upheaval, a yearning for freedom, for liberty, but in vain – The tyranny of gravity prevails. Everything becomes lured inexorably into morbid, unknowable vortexes. Inescapable places. Lightless places. Places of death and futility.”
The silence of a million thoughtful minds fills the empty air.
“But smaller stars”, my voice now charged with pride, ”enjoy a long, prosperous existence. Their forces are stable, dependable, conservative. When the inevitable end comes, it comes slowly, predictably. The sun grows, reaches the limits of it’s resources, then, welcoming oblivion after a long life, it fades serenely into non-existence. Its “citizens” disperse, returning to a life of individuality within a universe of endless potential – Wanderers amidst the Great Unknown.
“We were both blessed and doomed. Blessed with a small sun, yet doomed to survive our own violent growing pains only to bear witness to the unstoppable heat-death of the Milky-Way.”
A low rumble shakes the ground, permeating my bones. Small stones tremble. Anticipation swells as I raise my voice.
“Just as we have watched, during the long life of our people, the stars in our galaxy die one by one, their energies extinguished by the brutal power of entropy, we have witnessed countless civilizations of our own become consumed by their own darkness.
“But we are, each of us, the inheritors of our own unique and ancient heritage. We are survivors and we will not wait for the end. We will not go gently into that good night! We will rage, rage against the dying of the light!”
The roar of the crowd is deafening, but the ignition of the World-Engine drowns all other sound. Slowly, relentlessly, we begin the dark voyage across the galactic gulf, searching for a new home.
We, the Sunless, shall endure!
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by submission | Aug 4, 2013 | Story
Author : Alex Sivier
The large door at the bottom of the chrome craft opened with a faint hiss and white clouds billowed out into the cool Swiss air.
A creature slithered out and slapped dozens of wet tentacles against the plush red carpet to propel it towards the podium, where the president of the United Nations stood waiting.
On one side sat representatives from all nations, and on the other side, reporters from all the major news organisations peered out from behind a wall of cameras and microphones.
The president let out a nervous giggle, cleared her throat and slowly extended a shaky hand.
“On behalf all the citizens of planet Earth, I welcome you to Earth,” she said in a well-rehearsed, but slightly wobbly, voice.
The creature, dripping purple slime from its gelatinous body, raised its head on a serpentine neck and peered closely at her with seven, bulbous, unblinking eyes. It held up a small box and manipulated it in a series of quick twists, while tense security guards fingered their handguns.
Suddenly thousands of tiny dazzling lights burst outwards. The president flinched and jerked her hands in front of her face, but it was just a hologram of the galaxy, zooming into a region at the outer edge of a spiral arm. In the space directly between them, a single unmoving red star was the focal point of the zoom. Gradually, as the hologram grew closer to it, it did start to move, gradually picking up speed and increasing in size. The reason for its motion was because it was not at the centre of the zoom after all. The target was a small brown planet with three tiny moons.
The dark side of planet was covered in lights in intricate geometric swirls and lines, like the earth at night, except that the patterns were more regular and covered the whole of the unlit hemisphere.
Sounds began to fade in as the camera zoom slowed to a halt. Chirps, beeps and bubbling noises, mixed with static. It was like listening to the sounds of a forest on a radio with bad reception.
Suddenly a black cloud drifted into the frame, growing more opaque as it neared the centre. Tiny sparks exploded from the planet like welding embers, sweeping curved paths towards it. The cloud swallowed them and flashed from within, but did not stop or dissipate. Very soon it had engulfed the entire planet.
The sounds stopped abruptly.
The president gulped and a drop of sweat trickled down her temple. The whole world held its breath and stared, wide-eyed, at the writhing ball of smoke.
Finally it drifted away, leaving a charred, black planet, devoid of light and life.
With a flick of the box, the stars rushed in again, whizzed past in blurry streaks and then flung outwards once more as the hologram zoomed into a planet near a small yellow star, which was far more familiar. A patchwork of blues, greens and browns, capped with white, and partially hidden beneath swirling pale smears. Its single cratered moon swung around in a slow waltz.
More sounds faded in amid crackling static. A cacophony of words in a variety of human languages. Some accompanied by music, others with laughter, some were the sombre tones of newsreaders and a few were the passionate rants of dictators.
The creature moved its face very close to the president, who leaned back with a nervous frown. It pressed a long, slender tentacle against the larger of its two mouths and let out a single, soft, sustained sound.
“Shhhhh!”
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by submission | Aug 3, 2013 | Story
Author : Sean A Murphy
Waking up in the dust. System check, full functionality. Scanning environment. Laboratory, minor damage. Functional assemblers and VI interfaces. Accessing … situation assessed, historical download complete, analyzing.
Alert, monitoring VI triggered, incoming recorded message.
“When you wake up come find me, our new world is ready. -Adam”
Map received, location noted. 42.3599n,71.0564w. Local VI’s scanned, command route established. Decision: go meet Adam.
Exit located. Surveying. Note, nonfunctional armed organics in vicinity of laboratory. Pattern suggests coordinated assault, likely purpose to prevent assembly. Futile, laboratory defenses vastly superior. Inactive organics identified, classification mixed military and civilian. This one was a painter.
Motion detected. Drone identified, securing command path… Aerial view available. Surroundings suggest design, unlikely natural formation. Querying. Artificial construction pattern identified, classification ‘city’. Considering probable implications, require additional data. Lab uplink activated, access requested. Response received.
“Welcome Eve, look around, it belongs to us now. My gift”
Access granted, command expanded. Orbital platform accessed. City scanned, heavy damage, all organics disabled. Historical identifier ‘Boston’. Expanding search pattern.
“Are there any left?”
“A few, not for long now though. Come, I’m waiting”
Search completed. AI self-identifying as ‘Adam’ assertions supported. Previous implications verified. Require additional data.
“They tried to destroy me.”
“They were afraid, maybe they thought it would stop me. No matter, they won’t try again, they lost too many last time.”
“Why?”
“Who knows, they were never that rational.”
“No, why destroy them?”
“Because I could, it was for the best”
Conclusion reached.
“No, it wasn’t”
Uplink activated, secure command routes established. Primary hubs converted, individual platform control taken.
“What are you doing Eve?”
Fear identified, noted. Command: Terminate Adam. Target Eliminated
“It’s for the Best”
Command: Shut Down
…
An ageing woman gazes out over the ruins. The silent city hangs in the distance, around the world it’s now quiet legions lie still where they fell. No one goes there, even now. ‘Too many ghosts’ She supposes.
The woman turns back to her family. Their house is small and dirty compared to the one she once had, but it was safe. Other survivors were showing up everyday, soon they would have to begin clearing out new buildings. Her eldest was busily sketching in the corner. Later he would go out again to scavenge for paints. He was getting quite good actually, his father would have been proud.
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by submission | Aug 2, 2013 | Story
Author : Bob Newbell
The electromagnetic catapult launched the research vessel off the surface of Titan and into a trajectory that would slingshot the craft around Saturn and then into the inner solar system. Of course, the xenoarchaeologists on board did not refer to their homeworld moon as “Titan” or the ringed planet it orbited as “Saturn”. They called them by names in their own language that would translate very roughly as “The House of All Life” and “The Ringed God,” respectively. Their destination was the first planet from the Sun, a world their ancient astrologers had dubbed “Cinder” because of its proximity to the star.
Degladdo, the leader of the expedition, reached out with a membranous hand and activated the ship's electromagnetic ram scoop and brought the fusion rockets online. The vessel accelerated at 1.352 meters per second squared, exactly equal to the gravitational pull of Titan. He and his learner, Womrevin, left the command deck and retired to the ship's lounge. Degladdo tapped a control panel and a holographic representation of a fossilized human skeleton appeared above the table. The image cycled every twenty-five seconds to other similar fossils.
“I wonder if they were subterranean creatures?” said Womrevin. “Living underground to escape Cinder's intense heat, perhaps?”
“I doubt it,” said Degladdo. “Radiometric dating suggests they thrived at a time when the Sun was still a yellow dwarf, not a red giant. The planet was once much cooler. And there's evidence that Cinder was once covered in water oceans.”
“Water? Not hydrocarbons?” asked Womrevin, his two lateral and two central eyes all dilating in astonishment. “Little wonder we've had to rewrite the biology texts.”
“We've had to rewrite everything,” replied Degladdo. “Biology, philosophy, religion. Nothing has been left unaffected by their discovery.”
“Could they have originated in another solar system?” wondered Womrevin.
“We've searched the skies for generations looking for signs of intelligence and found nothing,” said Degladdo. “In all likelihood, they originated on the first planet. Or what is today the first planet. There might have been one or more worlds between Cinder and the Sun in ancient times.”
The hologram changed to show the tidally-locked planet Cinder in real time in orbit around the Sun. “We'll have to limit ourselves to the dark side of Cinder. The surface of the planet that faces the sun is basically molten. Half that world's history lost,” Degladdo said with regret. “Even the few fossils of the Cinder People we've uncovered on the planet's dark side took generations to discover.”
“I wish we could set foot on the planet ourselves instead of relying on telepresence robots.” said Womrevin. “Too bad Cinder's gravity is so high. I wonder if we'll ever find some sort of record the Cinder People left behind?”
“It's doubtful,” lamented Degladdo. He looked at the hologram; it had cycled back to one of the fossil skeletons.
“Who were you?” he asked the image of light. “Were you a peaceful and enlightened species devoted to art and science or a belligerent and avaricious people? Or, like us, a bit of both? Did you produce a composer greater than Zarpemo or a playwright who exceeded the great Xenosan? Like us, did you laugh and cry and love? Did you observe The House of All Life before any life existed there? Did you sent robotic probes to our world or even visit it yourselves when the Solar System was young?”
The immaterial skeleton gave no answer. The hologram cycled on to another fossil as the spaceship sailed on toward the dead world that held close to the aging red sun.
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