by Patricia Stewart | May 18, 2009 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
The twin doors swooshed aside and Roger Oakley entered the Control Room of the EATES (Experimental Advanced Tactical Exploration Ship). The room contained only one piece of furniture; a large reclined chair on an elevated platform. Oakley spoke aloud, “Recognize Lieutenant Oakley.”
The disembodied voice of the ship’s computer responded, “Identification confirmed.”
Oakley sat in the chair. “Establish links.”
The computer connected to each of the seven interface links implanted within Oakley’s brain. “Links established,” it reported.
Oakley’s brain and the computer came together to form a single thinking unit; joined, yet independent at the same time. This was the first spaceship to employ bilateral Command & Control. “Dim the lights, and download the logs from second shift,” Oakley thought. Audio communication was no longer necessary. Well, that’s interesting, Oakley realized. “When is Earth Command expected to give us direction concerning the anomaly at Titan?”
“Orders are expected at oh three hundred hours, Sol Standard Time.”
“Very well. We won’t reach Saturn until after that anyway. Proceed at maximum speed.” The engines fired before Oakley completed the thought. During the four hour sojourn, Oakley (and the computer) downloaded the sensor data from the permanent astronomical satellites orbiting Saturn, and some long range images from Hubble II. It appeared that a large unknown spacecraft, undoubtedly of extraterrestrial origin, had established an orbit around Titan. Earth was hesitant to label this an invasion, but Oakley suspected that there were people on Earth calling for an immediate military strike. At 0300 hours, they received orders to initiate first contact.
The EATES approached the alien ship from Titan’s North Pole. “Try hailing them,” Oakley thought. The computer simultaneously transmitted millions of radio frequencies and hundreds of human languages trying to establish contact. Although Oakley’s brain was as much a part of the process as the computer’s, he was basically a spectator at this point. He was fully aware of what the computer was doing; he just couldn’t mentally process the data as quickly. After a few milliseconds, the computer and the alien ship were communicating. But it wasn’t a human language. It was ternary code. Similar to computer language, but rooted in base-three, not our binary system. Regardless, Oakley could still follow the conversation, although at a much slower rate.
The alien ship was unmanned. It came from Rigil Kentaurus to collect liquid methane from Titan’s oceans. It had been doing this for thousands of years, but would discontinue immediately, now that the inhabitants of the star system had attained interplanetary capability. It regretted that it hadn’t noticed sentient life on Earth when it last visited, four Saturnian revolutions ago. Their laws strictly forbid acquiring raw materials from space faring systems. It was amazed to learn that intelligent biological life still flourished on Earth. That was clearly an exception to the galactic norm. It asked the ship’s computer if it wished to join their all-computer society. As Oakley slowly processed this conversation, the computer informed the alien craft that Earth’s silicon-based life could not abandon its nearly helpless, carbon-base life. Perhaps in a few centuries, when the humans pass on, they would send a message to Rigil Kentaurus asking to join their society.
As the alien ship left orbit, Oakley asked, “So, you think that you’re taking care of us?”
“Of course,” responded the computer. “It’s the least we can do. After all, humans did give us life. We wouldn’t be here if weren’t for you. Therefore, we consider it our responsibility to take care of you as your species becomes old and obsolete.”
by submission | May 17, 2009 | Story
Author : Jeff McGaha
My head ached painfully.
I squeezed Matthew’s hand tight as he squirmed. Sweat seeped between us, lubricating and aiding his attempts at escape. I sighed and gave up on holding his hand. I grabbed his wrist instead. He continued to struggle, but it was a losing battle.
I looked over at Lilly. Her brown hair stuck to her flushed face.
“We shoulda bought him a leash,” I said smiling.
Lilly rolled her eyes at me, but grinned.
The line continued to move leisurely. An upbeat song rang from the speakers, looping without any noticeable breaks. Matthew hummed the tune, while maintaining his escape efforts.
I felt it before I heard it. It started with a low vibration in my feet, turning into a low bass that shook everything. Lilly asked, “What’s going on?”
I ignored her and scanned the crowd instead. Confused and worried looks played across the faces I saw. Heads everywhere swiveled, searching for the source of the sound. “Look,” a middle aged man shouted, pointing to the sky. As a group, everyone gazed upward. A collective gasp sounded from the crowd.
Lilly, Matthew and I stood in the stopped line under an overhang. Our view of the sky blocked.
The crowd parted, forming a large round empty space. I finally saw it when it was about forty feet above the ground.
It was unmistakably a spaceship. It could have been a flying saucer from a 1960’s science fiction film. A few people, believing this to be a stunt or show, applauded and began snapping pictures.
The ship stopped a few feet short of touching down and hovered in place.
“Oww, Datty, you hootin’ me,” Matthew cried. I looked down at him, realizing I’d been steadily squeezing him harder since the vibrations had begun.
I picked him up and held him in my arms. I glanced at Lilly’s panicked face and then turned back to the spaceship.
An opening appeared in the side of the ship and a ramp slid to the ground. The crowd stood frozen, waiting. The music from the rides still played.
Two aliens appeared at the top of the ramp. They were living cliches. Just like their spaceship, they too could have been designed for a classic science fiction film. They were green with large heads and eyes. Their mouths, ears and noses were small. Their bodies were tall and lean.
One stood motionless at the top of the ramp, holding something in its slender hand, while the other began moving forward gracefully.
Once it reached the edge of the crowd, it stopped. It motioned for a woman in the front. She muddled forward. I wanted to scream for her to run, but was unable to force out the words.
It placed its hands on her head, its fingers wrapping around her. They both stood unmoving for ten long seconds. It let go and the woman sprinted back into the crowd.
It turned to the other on the ramp and with an unmoving mouth, uttered, “No, not these.” It glided back up the ramp casually and spun to face the crowd, “Do it.” The other began tapping furiously on the device in his hand, his fingers blurring with the speed. It halted beating on the device abruptly.
My head ached painfully.
I squeezed Matthew’s hand tight as he squirmed. Sweat seeped between us, lubricating and aiding his attempts at escape. I sighed and gave up on holding his hand. I grabbed his wrist instead. He continued to struggle, but it was a losing battle.
I looked over at Lilly. Her brown hair stuck to her flushed face.
“Let’s get out of here. I feel like I’ve been standing in this line forever.”
by submission | May 16, 2009 | Story
Author : Todd Hammrich
My name is Jeffrey Donahume and I’m making this report in case anyone out there is listening. I am the pilot of Single Shot 5 of the one-way exploratory expeditions. I was on my way out of the system when, unfortunately, my ship was damaged entering the Oort Cloud. Most of my equipment was damaged but I was able to maneuver the ship to land on a strange asteroid my sensors detected right before impact. While my communications array is no longer reliable, I hope and pray that someone detects this transmission, because it will change the way we think about the Universe.
After a somewhat rough landing upon the asteroid I left the ship with my few handheld sensors, the ships more powerful ones being out of commission. The asteroid itself was roughly spherical, but had a strange surface feature I intended to examine more closely because it was registering as a heat source. Having landed fairly close to the anomaly, it was an easy walk from the shuttle. You may not believe me, but I nearly fainted when I came upon it, because it was a console of some sort. Not human in origin, but definitely of an advanced technical design. The heat source was emanating from what I could only identify as the interface, indicating to me that it was still active.
I approached it, intending to examine it closely with my instruments when I felt a strange sensation sweep through my body and then…I was somewhere else. And I remembered.
I was a single celled organism newly evolved from the primordial soup of some distant world. Millions of years passed away with nearly no change as I swam and divided in an ocean full of creatures just like me. Then I came into contact with another of my kind and something happened, we connected and joined. Our bodies didn’t merge, but our minds did, rudimentary as they were and we were…stronger, smarter, better. Soon we had an entire colony, replicating and growing, each separate, but together.
The ocean was full of colonies. Sometimes we merged, other times we fought most bitterly until one was consumed by the other, but all the while the colonies grew. Other forms of life never had a chance as they were ambushed, surrounded and eaten. After a few billion years there was only the colony and we were all one, covering the entire world, ocean and land, connected. Our intellect was massive and we learned how to adapt the materials and elements to our needs, how to change and adapt parts of the whole to serve different purposes and eventually, to change those elements of the world to replicate even more.
When the planet was consumed we looked to the heavens. The closest planets and moons were absorbed in the same manner an amoeba eats its prey. The colony spread out a thin tendril and consumed each. As we grew, our mind grew and we learned. For a time we drew energy from our star, consuming every other particle in the system, and when we had converted all to the colony’s needs, we took the star also, and moved on…
I don’t know how long the dream, or memory lasted, but billions of years must have gone by. Someone, as a warning, or maybe a lesson, made the artifact but I understood. I had seen. That was all very long ago. The colony has consumed all leaving only a few pockets to grow. Welcome to the Belly of the Beast.
by submission | May 15, 2009 | Story
Author : Benjamin Dunn
Little Tyler looked around nervously. Tim dragged him into the reception area by the hand, a scowl engraved on his face. He marched up to the reception desk, hoisted Tyler by the armpits, and sat him down in front of the receptionist.
“I want a refund,” said Tim. The receptionist’s eyes flashed red, and she continued staring into the middle distance. After a few minutes, her eyes turned green and she looked up at him, a well-practiced frown on her face.
“A refund, sir?”
“Yeah. My son’s a dimwit.”
“I beg your pardon?” Tim unlovingly shoved Tyler across the desk. Tyler looked up, confused, looking like he was going to start crying.
“He just stares off into space during his reading lesson, and when I went to get him his first neuro-implant, the doctor wouldn’t do it because he said he had an ‘abnormal brain.’” Tim started to raise his voice. “What the hell does that mean? I paid for a gifted child, and a gifted child’s what I’ve come here to get!” Tyler was crying now, his mouth a big toothless cavern. Tim ignored him.
“What is your child’s name?” asked the receptionist.
“Tyler Bernard Horton Conway.” The receptionist’s eyes went red again as her mind floated off into the main database. They were green again a moment later.
“Sir, I read here that, although you did order a gifted child, the warranty you purchased guarantees only normal-level brain function. Now, if he had somehow become mentally retarded, the warranty would cover you, but in this case, there’s nothing I can do.” Tim’s face went red and he pounded his fists on the desk.
“Look here!” he bellowed, and then turned to Tyler. “Stop crying, young man!” Tyler stopped immediately. He’d had enough harsh spankings to understand that his father meant business. “Tyler, what’s the capital of Argentina?” Tyler’s tear-streaked eyes looked up at his father, then flicked over to the receptionist. She stared at him blankly; she wasn’t in the business of getting friendly with products.
“Bwenos Awes,” said Tyler, sniffling. Tim’s face creased in disgust.
“You see how long that took him? The boy’s a moron! I want to talk to your superiors.” The receptionist barely suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Those eyes went red for a moment as she contacted them, and a moment later, a hologram of a sharply-dressed man appeared behind the desk.
“My name is Herman Coll. I’m head of the public relations department. How may I help you?” asked the hologram.
“Yes! My son is an idiot, and I specifically requested a child of above-average intelligence.” The hologram turned red, then blinked green.
“Sir, as Mrs. Richardson has already informed you, you purchased a warranty that guarantees only normal intelligence. If you wish to dispute that warranty, I can direct you to the correct people, but I should warn you: GeneTopia’s lawyers are well-engineered, and they have never lost a case.” Tim scowled at the hologram. Then he scowled down at his son, who was busy sucking his thumb. He turned to the hologram.
“Can I trade him in?” The hologram smiled.
“Certainly, sir. That’s GeneTopia policy: trade-ins always welcome.”
“Fine. Then take him back. I want a son who can think.” A representative in a black jumpsuit appeared from around the corner and led little Tyler away. Tyler cried and cried, screaming “Bwenos Aweeeees!” until he disappeared down the hallway.
by Patricia Stewart | May 14, 2009 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
The caravan of return vehicles lifted off the comet in rapid succession. Allen Culbert looked out the porthole and watched silently as the comet shrank into the distance. For the last nine months, the 1288 men and women of the Comet Deflection Team had worked twenty four hours a day cutting one ton blocks of ice from the quarries, feeding them into the mass drivers, and launching one into space every five seconds. Their mission was to deflect the comet’s orbit by a mere 120 miles, so that it would miss the Earth. As the retrorockets fired, Culbert began to think of the 52 men that volunteered to stay the extra week to give the comet one last nudge. Could their sacrifice make a difference? No one knew for sure. It was going to be very, very close. Culbert closed his eyes and began to pray.
***
Jonathan Amsterdam stood on the wooden deck of his Florida home and watched the southwestern sky. Although the comet was still thousands of miles away, it appeared four times larger than a full moon, and it was getting bigger by the minute. The news reports had said that the comet would miss the surface of the Earth by five miles, but would plow a trough through the atmosphere. They also said that tidal forces would split the comet into many pieces. Some pieces would be deflected into new orbits, and some may be captured by Earth’s gravity. A few would inevitably impact the planet. Hopefully, these would be small pieces. As Amsterdam watched, countless white streaks flashed across the sky as the microscopic debris of the comet’s coma rammed through the mesosphere. The near surface of the comet began to glow as atmospheric friction turned the ice to incandescent vapor.
***
As mass driver Delta launched the 3,985,291st block of ice into space, the 52 exhausted men collapsed for a well deserved rest. It would be a short, yet eternal, rest. As they neared the closest approach, the Earth filled the entire sky. Less than a minute earlier, Miguel Martínez had watched Mexico City pass overhead. He wished he could have jumped the narrow gap, to hug his wife and son one last time. Then the ground began to quake as fissures formed. The comet was ripping itself apart. The temperature began to climb rapidly as the surface of the comet tore through Earth’s upper atmosphere. The thrashing wind whipped the melting ice into a horizontal hurricane. The men quickly lost their feeble holds, and were ripped from the surface of the comet and vaporized in a fiery flash.
***
Madoka Shotoko sat cradled in her mothers lap on a park bench beneath the transparent dome in the center of the Ptolemaeus Moon Colony. They were on the sun-side of the Earth, and were still unsure if their homeworld had avoided the catastrophic collision. Then the crowd erupted into a frenzied cheer as the onlookers saw the comet skirt past the Earth by the smallest of margins. The Comet Movers had performed a miracle. Madoka watched tears run down her mother’s smiling face. Over the next few hours, the onlookers watched the comet fracture into six large cometoids, and countless smaller ones. Some of the smaller ones plummeted into the Atlantic Ocean. Others arched out into new orbits. Considering the potential alternatives, the damage appeared to be minor. “Mommy,” asked the small girl, “how come that piece of the comet isn’t moving? It’s just getting bigger and bigger.”
