by submission | Jan 28, 2007 | Story |
Author : Idan Cohen
The car was like lightning beneath the curve of his body, electricity and steam pumping in unholy unison to create a movement that was never meant for mortal men. Cities flashed by the windows, kaleidoscopic – Petrograd, Birmingham, Chicago, Tel Aviv, a thousand thousand more. Forests gave birth to deserts and became oceans that became plains.
His instructor smiled lightly, gently guiding his hand on the gears, the wheel, knowing the car as if born within it, born to it. The road was gravel beneath them, and concrete, and the sky, and the stars themselves bore their signs. They drove, and the wind caressed their travel.
At last, they stopped – whirlwind dash was withheld, for now.
Jimmy laughed.
The time traveling space car was the best thing ever.
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by submission | Jan 27, 2007 | Story |
Author : V.L. Ilian
“Have you come to a decision?â€
The voice of the negotiator is breaking my concentration. Just like I’ve been told… it’s a fair deal but I can’t help feeling like I’m selling my soul.
“Some feel that they’re selling themselves but that is simply not the case.â€
“But this isn’t what I wanted to do with my lifeâ€
“And nobody will stop you from pursuing your goals in life. Some of the other members lead absolutely normal lives outside the compounds, protected by our anonymity program and enjoying the extra income that comes from royalties. However one look at your dossier tells me that with the royalties you’ll be receiving you’ll never have to work again.â€
He has a funny way of putting it. Just the thought of the weekly sessions with doctors and machines poking and prodding me for the rest of my life…
“You’ll even help people. Every bit of data gathered from studying you will lead to great discoveriesâ€
“What about any of my future children?â€
“They’ll be offered a similar deal when they come of age but they’re free of any obligationsâ€
My hand picks up the pen and I feel the sting of the samplers as they draw my blood to mix it with the ink. As I hand him the signed contract the negotiator stands up and shakes my hand.
“Welcome to the Superhuman Protection Allianceâ€
But his words did not come from his mouth…
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by submission | Jan 26, 2007 | Story |
Author : Kate Thornborough
David was able to make the transition as soon as he finished University. I’ve been in Secondary for a little more than seven years. I should have undergone the transition years ago. If only my brain was faster. Everyone else in my compound can perform advanced math and equate many species’ genomes. I struggle with the most basic calculus formulas and the simplest of fungi DNA send me into a loop. I want to be just like everyone else, inside and out. I look average, and I am grateful for that small blessing, but I want to feel average too. Why must I be different?
Many stare at me as I drift mournfully by, estimating my age and creating equations in a blink of an eye. It would take a good half and hour for me to do that. That is why I’m going to go through with the transition illegally. I just want to get it done so the gaping and humiliation can finally end. Besides, who really needs to know every physics equation?
Lucas, the operator and owner of the machine, guides me to the chamber. It is littered with coils and wires, and many are covered in dark ooze. Gulping my cowardice, I focus on Lucas and see him grab some glinting object. Delivering it to me, he nervously points to a safety poster and rushes out of the room. The object has two holes in the handles, and the blade is oddly thick. My normally clumsy hands automatically conform to the handle as if it was a treasured toy from my childhood. Flexing my fingers cautiously, I jump in startled shock as the blade splits in two. I panic, and I fear I have destroyed it, but a glance at the safety poster reassures me. I follow the instructions, and proceed to sever the personification of my stupidity. I feel my body becoming heavier with each snap, and I pause at the last vein. I say a quick prayer, close my eyes, and amputate my final connection to my former life.
My body collapses, and I slightly sink into the muck. I try to move, but nothing happens. As I lay there, a diagram springs into my head. It shows an arm- mapped out on a graph- with an equation next to it. Crazily, I play along, and plug in my arm’s approximate weight, length, and other information. Picturing the formula written out, I slowly compute the answer, taking my time to carry the various digits. Finally, I get an answer. 75 1/3. When nothing happens, I contemplate my mistake. Then, I remember that I forgot to factor in the 8X. Calculating the many numbers and reevaluating the variables, I receive another answer. 24. Suddenly, my hand springs to life and looks at me, awaiting my next command. Groaning, I realize that I should have waited and paid more attention in math class. This was going to be a long walk back to the bus stop.
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by submission | Jan 25, 2007 | Story |
Author : Allen McGill
LEADER was about to impart; hoards of followers pressed toward the sanctified podium in the domed plaza, along the warren of tunnels leading from it, and on every crag and terrace where the stentorian resonance could be felt. The silence of static thousands was tangible, pressing on the epidermal layers, smothering.
Suddenly, without warning or introduction, LEADER’s words bellowed throughout the cavernous domain, reverberating off the crystal ramparts: “We are the master race! The inferior humans must be destroyed! They have decimated all we’ve permitted them to inherit and now threaten our world with their incessant pollution, wars and diseases.”
LEADER’s corporeal image materialized beside the podium in an evolving emergence of light; angry red infused with the blue tint of sorrow and a purple shade of pain. LEADER’s physical being was immense, more massive than any other in the assembly. Bodily countenance spoke as clearly as the mind-projection of thoughts and words. LEADER would be understood and obeyed; the universe to change forever.
“Their ambassadors and politicians convey nothing but untruths; their so-called religions are nothing more than means to control, enslave, and lead our offspring into cults of self-indulgence and anarchy totally against our belief in the unity of all.
“Their inferiority extends even to their inability to communicate without ‘heard’ or ‘written’ language. They are of less value than the animals they devour, or keep in chains. We have been patient with them since we first allowed them to crawl upon the dirt of a pristine world and begin to destroy it. We excused their faults, pardoned their intentional disregard of our warnings and demands for care. Too long. Far too long. Possibly our own fault. But now the time has come to remedy the error.”
LEADER drew up tall, taller than could have been imagined possible, crystal-white of determination emanating from within the visible body. The atmosphere in the cavern was still as the congregation, warm to suffocation.
“I have decided,” LEADER continued, “and the council agrees with me, that we will halt the continuance and advancement of the human problem. The final solution! Extermination!”
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by submission | Jan 24, 2007 | Story |
Author : L. Hall
Martin’s hand waved lazily at the string of scented smoke that hung in the air. The tent smelled of sand and hot breezes, mixed with heady aromas of spices and metal. The mines on Cypress 304 provided the Wan Military with their massive ships, but the aboriginal people provided the metal. The taste, the smell, the heaviness of metal hung about the planet… enveloping the adapted vegetation.
The government had showed the cadets countless films; reels upon reels of warnings of contamination. Degradation of humanity was the most highly punishable crime; the human element could not be soiled by other planets. The military emphasized that non-Terran planets were inhospitable and beneath human consideration.
All the new recruits were psychologically tested after every third film, until it was ground in and concrete the contempt the men would have for other worlds. This was standard Wan protocol, to prevent AWOL and keep their people focused. A very young cadet Dremmel had measured his responses to the psychological tests, slowed his heart rate and answered appropriately; ensuring an assignment off world. Those who could not were doomed to a life in the lush but identical offices in a Terran bio-dome.
Deserts were non-existent on Terra-Earth and when a burgeoning Captain Dremmel arrived on Cypress 304, his senses exploded with unfamiliar sights and sounds. With watchdog mechanical eyes following everything the crew did, it was a rare occasion when Dremmel’s eyes would stray from his work. But when they did stray, he drank in the sepia desert and held it close to his heart.
After three years of active duty, Captain Dremmel’s crew boarded the “SC Bounty†to return to Terra-Earth. As the ship rose toward the upper atmosphere, there was a hissing sound as a piece of the extended cargo bay ripped off. Some distance away, three figures watched as the “SC Bounty†shuddered and fell apart, falling back into the lower atmosphere and eventually, the planet’s surface. The records of the Wan Military recorded no survivors… certainly not the Captain, his first officer nor his navigator.
Two years later, Martin breathed in the intoxicating scent of spice and metal. The taste of the Cypressian woman lingered on his lips. He stroked her dusky skin, following the ridges along her back. She chuckled and at the heavy sound, Martin’s skin tingled. Looking up at him with her golden eyes, she hummed contently. “You Terrans… You have such a hunger for desolate places…â€
Captain Dremmel had gone native.
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