by Stephen R. Smith | Dec 9, 2009 | Story
Author : Steve Smith, Staff Writer
She watched him, often, from the other side of his bedroom mirror, a floor to ceiling affair that allowed her the privilege of spectating from the comfort of her own space.
He would come and go, sometimes alone, sometimes with others. He would wrap himself in sheets of colour, most times his companions would too, but other times they would press just their flesh against one another.
This fascinated her.
The shapes his face made were peculiar, and she began to recognize them as states of being. Sometimes his face was broad, his mouth wide, insides showing white and gleaming. Other times his face creased, contracted in upon itself, on occasion becoming shiny in patches as he quivered.
An unusual specimen to be sure.
She knew she was pleasing, knew from the various shapes and colours of the creatures he kept company with that she too could be satisfying to him, be satisfied by him. She was certain that he would share with her his illuminated state of being, the broad face and gaping maw that she believed was an indication of pleasure.
While he idled, resting, she reached out to him, siphoning away vibrations from his unconscious mind. These things excited her, these random experiential happenings that he shared so unknowingly.
She needed more from him.
There were times when he would stop while passing, looking at his mirror, looking right at her, as though he knew the mirror was merely a window, a portal into her space. She knew he could not see, knew with absolute certainty, but in these moments she froze, not daring to move. Sensations of fear, the need to escape overwhelmed her, but so did the need to stay, to be with him, to have him near her. He would shake away his gaze, his visage one of unusual creases, motion and contraction.
The sensations stayed with her for a time after he departed, and she found she was developing an insatiable appetite for them.
In the darkened hours, when the only light in his space was that filtering in from the portals to his outside world, she would thin the membrane between their spaces to its limit, pressing herself as closely to it as she dared without crossing over so as to be as close to him as was possible. Sometimes he would stare at her through the darkness, unsure of what he could see.
It was one such dark period that found them only the barest distance apart. He searching the darkness with his eyes, reaching tentatively towards a mirror that no longer showed a reflection he recognized, and she pressed against the membrane from the other side, frozen in place.
The sensations that flooded her senses were overwhelming, beyond even her ability to control them. She fought the urge to escape, to slip away, to opaque the wall between them and retreat to a safe distance. When his hand touched her from the other side, it was more than she could bear.
He slipped easily through the membrane, joining her in her own space without resistance. Where his hand first contacted her skin, she felt the heat of his presence, and she craved more of it. Enveloping him, she watched as his face began to undulate through the variations she was sure were those of pleasure. His eyes widened, his mouth opened, white endoskeletal elements exposed. His mouth gaped, closed and opened again, eyes wider as his body undulated, his fire radiating outward from him, through her into the cold vacuum of her space.
She found him beautiful, first in motion, then still.
Recognizing his stillness as a rest state, she contented herself with holding him as he cooled.
by Duncan Shields | Dec 8, 2009 | Story
Author : Duncan Shields, Staff Writer
We had created a society free of disease and violence. We had a society that was centered on fun and learning. We had a society that knew the difference between entertainment and education. We had cross-bred to the point that there were no more ‘races’ left.
We had a peaceful empire that spanned three systems and an average individual life expectancy of five hundred years.
Human beings have always thought of each point in their history as their most advanced. It’s like there’s a temporal egotism that says This, Right Here, Is the Best We’ve Ever Been stamped into everyone’s brain.
I suppose that’s what screwed us up as well. They say pride goeth before a fall.
We should never have woken them up.
There was a system wide ‘awakening’ party that had been organized for a decade. Everyone that had ever been put into cryogenic storage was taken out, cured, cloned, re-canted, simmed or given a construct and brought back to life on the same day.
It was joyous. Great15 grandchildren met with ancestors for the first time. Wet, happy eyes looked at historical figures live and breathe. Great learned minds were brought to us intact. It was seen as a heartfelt victory of the soul for all of humanity.
It was the stupidest thing we’d ever done.
Remember, we looked at warfare like witch-burning; an embarrassing footnote on our race’s way to glory. We hadn’t had a war in two centuries. We had no idea.
War takes no time to spread. With our long life spans and peace-loving ways, it didn’t take long for the Cryos to band together for familiar company. After they bound together, it didn’t take long for them to have a problem with us and demand space for themselves and *only* themselves. We gave it to them.
They wanted more.
They attacked. The reports came out from Earth with bloodstained shock. Reporters openly wept when reading back the details from the teleprompter.
We had to refer to our nets to look up the meanings of new words like ‘border’ ‘money’ and ‘opressed’. A dead vocabulary sprang back to life. Sparks were lit in distant recesses of the collective unconscious.
Horrified people on Earth were angry. A human thirst for revenge, long dead, awakened in dormant parts of the brainstem. Suddenly, there was a ‘them’ and it was invasive. Protection was the only answer.
Battles became frequent and even more disturbing was that on all sixteen planets, we watched, wide eyed and panting, at the carnage.
It changed us. That was the beginning of the war. It took seven years.
In the end, the Cryos were exterminated in a final solution reminiscent of an ancient political party known as the Nazis. So were the people that helped them. And the friends of the people suspected of helping them. Even the Cryos that had sided with us were put to death as well for the good of us all. It was too late.
A division grew amongst us at the gory repercussions of our murderous bloodthirsty decision. First political battles broke out, then actual physical ones. Earth01 demanded to secede from the union. Then Saturn’s Moons and archipelagos. Korthos followed suit.
Sides were drawn. Tempers were high.
We lost Mars altogether in that flashpoint attack. We have a larger asteroid belt now in the Sol system where that planet used to be.
That was the end of peace. We run and gun now. The sleeper has awakened. We look back and shake our heads. We should have let sleeping dogs lie.
by Patricia Stewart | Dec 7, 2009 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
“If the human ambassador moves, kill him,” ordered the Torellian captain. His two security guards instantly leveled their phasers at Ambassador Dorn.
Dorn smiled, and said to his security escort, “Men, if the Torellian guards shoot me, you are to kill the two guards, and captain T’Noroi, before my body hits the deck. Understood?”
“Aye, sir,” was the simultaneous reply.
Then, Dorn defiantly marched across the bridge of the Torelian flagship, and stopped inches in front of the Torellian captain. The Torrellian guards twitched, but never fired. “Well, Captain, back on Earth, this is what we’d call a ‘Mexican standoff’. Will we die together, or talk?”
T’Noroi’s expression had changed three times during Dorn’s approach; from shock that the earthman had ignored his threat, to anger that his guards didn’t carry out his orders, and finally to a thin smile at the ambassador’s imperiousness. After a few seconds, his smile evolved into a chuckle that culminated in a hardy laugh. “Ambassador,” he said, “I do believe Earth has sent the right negotiator. Guards, holster your weapons.”
Dorn turned toward his men, and winked. They acknowledged, and also stowed their phasers. Dorn returned his attention to T’Noroi. “Surely Captain, the Torrelians don’t want to start an interstellar war over this worthless asteroid,” he pointed toward the five mile wide asteroid that was visible on the bridge’s main viewscreen.
“You have no claim on that asteroid, Ambassador. It’s clearly in our space.”
“That may be true, Captain, but when the treaty was signed, the asteroid was in our space, and hence, it’s our property.” Localized conflicts between Earth forces and the Torrelians had been escalating for years. All out war was considered inevitable. Dorn’s mission was to convince the Torrelians that a war with Earth would not be in their best interest.
“Well, I say it belongs to the Torellian Empire,” argued Captain T’Noroi. But, Ambassador, I can be reasonable. I’ll make you a proposal. If you can push the asteroid back into Earth space, you can keep it.” Again, he laughed.
Undaunted, Dorn replied, “I’ll make you a counter proposal, Captain. How about we destroy the asteroid, and you can keep the debris.”
Amused, T’Noroi decided to call the earthman’s bluff. “Be my guest, Ambassador. It will be interesting to see such an audacious attempt. That asteroid’s mass is a billion times larger than your ship. I’ll be sure to send the recorded images of your futility back to the homeworld. It will be great fair for the late night talk shows.”
Dorn opened his communicator and said “Commander, destroy the asteroid.”
As the ambassador and captain watched, a beam of light streaked from the earth ship toward the asteroid. Almost instantly, the asteroid exploded into a billion fiery fragments. T’Noroi’s pompous grin disappeared. He was clearly awed by the display of firepower. He became weak, and collapsed into his command chair, speechless.
“Well, I guess I’ll be heading back to my ship now, Captain. Sorry about the mess.”
***
Dorn didn’t start laughing until he returned to his own bridge. “Nice shot, Commander. Perfect timing on the detonation. You thoroughly impressed the Torelians.”
“I can imagine. I wish I was there to see T’Noroi’s face. The two tons of antimatter that we buried in the asteroid last year was nearly one half of Earth’s total supply.”
“Worth every ounce, Commander. I don’t think the Torellians will be itching for a fight with Earth anytime soon.”
by submission | Dec 6, 2009 | Story
Author : Glenn Blakeslee
It had taken us weeks to get there. My brother Phillip and I, carrying heavy packs, had joined with a group of pilgrims early in our journey. We’d wound our way through the ruins, followed the old freeways to the mountains which rimmed the coastal plain like sentinels.
We wore burnooses and headgear like the pilgrims. I’d befriended a girl, Elisa, traveling with her parents, and spent my time with her. “The Tree talked to our ancestors,” she’d said once, but I didn’t argue with her, couldn’t blame her for being backwards. Most people, besides my clan, were lost in myths of the old days.
“Maybe it’ll talk to us again,” I replied.
We were attacked by robbers in the foothills. They rolled rocks down on us and closed the narrow canyon to our advance, but we were able to overcome them. I killed my first man with the rusty shotgun my father had given me, and kept wits enough to collect the emptied shells before covering the body with stones.
Finally we’d arrived. The Talking Tree stood high on a ridge overlooking a rugged sere valley, a tall evergreen that looked out of place among the Manzanita and low sage that filled the canyon.
Pilgrims filled the space around the Tree. Beyond, a cleared area beside the crumbled asphalt of a highway held merchant shacks where people traded water, food, and bits of broken technology as charms. Phillip and I moved to the front of the crowd, where the pilgrims stood reverently circling the Tree. Some were praying but most just watched, waiting for the Tree to Talk.
The Tree was a steel column surrounded by a wire fence, festooned with tokens and charms. At the middle and top of the column curved pieces of steel jutted at cardinal points. Green plastic needles cascaded from the column, completing the Tree illusion. A large silver box stood between the Tree and the fence.
Phillip glanced down the canyon, at the hills that fell to the sea. “Excellent fresnel location,” he whispered, and walked toward the Tree. The crowd stirred, and as he climbed the fence pilgrims gasped and screamed. I stood back, at the periphery, afraid.
Phillip motioned to me from inside the fence. I carefully dropped my pack and pulled out the converter-relay and the compact solar panel, handed them to him. The crowd moved but didn’t approach the fence. Someone shouted “Blasphemers!”
Phillip opened a door on the silver box, knelt and stepped inside. I turned to the pilgrims, who were all watching us, the crowd surging toward the Tree. I pulled the shotgun from under my robes, pumped it once, and pointed the barrel at the sky. “Get back!” I screamed.
A bearded man in the crowd screamed back, “You must not touch the Tree!” and he took steps toward me. I lowered the shotgun.
Elisa appeared out of nowhere. “Matthew?” she said, looking at me.
“The Tree doesn’t talk to us,” I said. I tried being calm, but I was shaking. “We use the Tree to talk,” I said, holding the shotgun level, but not at her.
Phillip scrambled back over the fence, smiling. “The interface worked perfectly,” he said and pulled a handheld from his pocket. The crowd watched, silent. Phillip pushed a button on the device. “Radio check,” he said.
The handheld was silent, and then a tinny sound issued from it. My father’s voice said, from miles away, “We read you.”
The bearded man threw up his arms. “It talks!” he screamed. Elisa smiled at me.
Bit by bit we are rebooting the world.
by submission | Dec 5, 2009 | Story
Author : Q. B. Fox
Bill had never been the sort of person who looked for the limelight. He was the sort of team player that kept his head down and worked hard; no doubt that’s why he had been selected for this mission.
But it bothered him that he would be the first person in the world to do something as remarkable as this and no one would ever know. He would not be a name in text books or the answer to game show questions. But worse, no one, beyond a very small circle, would ever know that he’d done it at all.
Not for the first time, he sighed wearily.
*
“Telescopes, William,” Professor Paulson had confided in him, “It’s all because of telescopes. Before that no one could see the details, so we hadn’t bothered with them; there was enough to do. But Cambridge University’s new Gorsky Orbital Telescope… They say it’ll be able to read the serial number on the reflector array.” The professor had laughed at his own exaggeration. “And you know what academics are like…,” Paulson had added with a wink.
At least Bill had met the president.
“I’m sorry to ask you to do this,” he’d said to Bill solemnly. “As you know this is our second attempt to complete this mission. Travelling in space is harder than people imagine.”
“If it wasn’t, sir,” Bill had replied, “then there wouldn’t be a mission to carry out in the first place.”
The president had smiled, but it had been sad smile; no doubt he was thinking of the missing astronaut’s family.
*
Bill turned his head to check the navigational readouts and in the cramped cabin he banged his head on a rover’s replacement wheel; the original was damaged during landing, apparently.
*
The professor had shown him the pictures from the obiter.
“They’re convincing,” Bill had conceded.
“It’s all really there, William. We put all the machinery up there. The problem has always been the people.”
“That’s what Agent Gregg said, sir.”
It was what Agent Gregg had said.
“The problem was always the people. We lost lots of craft; fifteen before we even managed to slam one onto the surface, another two after that. When three people were killed, someone (and I am not authorised to tell you who) proposed a different direction.”
“But how did you keep it quiet?” Bill had asked.
“Well, we weren’t entirely successful with that, now, were we?” Agent Gregg had said with a grin. “But mostly there was much less to keep quiet than you’d think; mostly what folks think happened, happened. ‘Cept there wasn’t any more people involved.”
“And the Russians? How could they not have known?” Bill had wondered aloud.
“Now there is a tale all of its own,” Gregg had laughed. “Shall we just say that ‘bout the time the Soviets found out, we found out they hadn’t been entirely honest either.”
*
Bill shook his head, forced himself to concentrate as his pod started its landing procedure.
His main mission was to take stuff away from the sites; like the garbage left over from deploying the reflectors. But some things he was there to leave behind. It’s all in the detail, he told himself, parroting his training.
He adjusted his boots, larger than they needed to be, so they left the right size prints. Then idly he rolled a dimpled spheroid around the palm of his hand.
“What a lot of fuss,” he thought to himself, “to put a golf ball on the moon.”
