by submission | Jan 5, 2013 | Story |
Author : Derrick Paulson
“Uptown”
When Principal Wallace came back from his mid-morning meeting his secretary informed him that a student had been sent to see him; but, when he opened the door to his office, he hadn’t expect to find the sophomore girl kneeling on the carpet, her hands cupped over her knees. He had, however, expected the dress.
“What are you doing, Bella?” Principal Wallace said as he entered the room. “Get up and come have a seat.” He gestured toward one of three leather upholstered armchairs that faced his desk as he sat down himself on the other side near the windows.
The sun was warm through the panes, but the wind outside was as incessant as ever.
“Sir, I will, but look.” Bella remained on the floor. “This dress goes almost to my feet. It goes way passed my knees!” To emphasize this she grabbed some of the blue and orange floral fabric near her ankle and bunched it up in her fist.
“That’s not the point.” Principal Wallace said as he leaned back. “You know the hemline is not the issue. Bella, we’ve been over this.”
Principal Wallace caught movement outside, turned his head to see a man walking his dog. The big, shaggy, white canine moved timidly, one booted foot after another, as if it were walking on thin ice. A gust of wind came up, sending the dog’s hair flying in all directions. It reminded Principal Wallace of a picture he’d once seen of a twentieth century actress in a white dress, her skirts billowing in the blast from a subway vent.
“Bella,” Principal Wallace turned back to find the sophomore girl standing, arms folded, “you know the policy about this. You can wear jeans, you can even wear pajama pants, but you can’t wear a dress to school.”
“But this was a gift from my great grandma.”
Bella had said that on a similar occasion about a miniskirt.
“Look,” Principal Wallace eyed the time on his computer screen, “you might get away with wearing a sundress in Downtown, but not here Bella. If you don’t want me to call your dad I’m going to have to ask you to go home and change before you miss another class.”
“Fine.” Bella dropped her arms to her sides and turned to go.
“Not that way,” Principal Wallace emphasized the words as he shook his head. “Take the elevator.”
When the girl had gone, mumbling something under her breath about elevators being for babies, Principal Wallace got up and went to the windoor. Opening it up he stepped out. His anti-gravity boots hummed softly as he walked on nothing but air fifty stories above ground level. a few stories down he saw the hover-yard where some of the boys where taking advantage of a free hour to practice their 3-point dunks. Maybe tomorrow, he thought, if they were at it again he’d show them how they used to do it old school. Maybe tomorrow.
by submission | Jan 3, 2013 | Story |
Author : J.D. Rice
No one ever comes into manhood dreaming they’d one day go off to war. Sure, some boys sign up voluntarily, in peacetime and besides, with good notions like “defending one’s country” and “promoting democracy.” But those are just words. No one ever really goes to war of their own volition, knowing and understanding exactly the kind of hell they’re walking into. I didn’t. I got my draft papers and just went off to Nam without another word. One tour of duty was all they were asking for, and I wasn’t so unpatriotic as to let someone else go in my place. Only the cowards ran to Canada anyhow. Except now I wish I had been a coward. I guess that’s just how war changes you.
I remember a private in my platoon, thought he was going to be some kind of damn war hero. He’d volunteered. He was excited. He was a goddamned idiot.
“You just wait til we get to that open field on the northern border,” he used to say. “That’s where it’s going to happen. I’m going to be a hero, you just wait and see.”
We laughed, but we could all see that this boy was different. Every engagement, he’d go in with eyes like a child playing a game of baseball. He just looked into the jungle, smiled, and fired into the trees like he knew exactly where the enemy was hidden. Sometimes he’d get lucky. Other times he’d hit nothing but bark and leaves. In every case, that smile stayed on his face, like the war just wasn’t real to him, like it wouldn’t matter if any of us lived or died. It would have given us all the willies if the boy weren’t so likable in all other respects, idiot though he was.
Most days while we marched this private would entertain us by reciting his favorite science fiction stories, famous ones according to him, though most were unfamiliar to the rest of us. He’d talk about the flying machines that were coming down the pipeline, about the bigger and badder bombs the government was making, about space and time travel and all the rest. He’d cite authors like Crichton, Scott Card, Axelrod and Kachelries. I’d never heard of a damn one, but he talked about them like they were saints.
“Just you wait and see,” he said. “They’re going to be huge!”
We all just chuckled and thanked our stars that at least he wasn’t a damned coward.
But eventually, as it always does, the war got the best of even him. We were just off the northern border when the enemy came upon us out in the open. We were surrounded on three sides, outnumbered and outgunned. Poor boy just froze up, took a bullet right to the chest, and went down in the first five minutes. I don’t think he ever fired a single shot. After our retreat, I found him among the wounded, dying and unattended. The medics had already marked him for death.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” the boy said as I knelt beside him. “They said I would be a hero. They said the technology was flawless. I’d be him. I’d live his life. God, this wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Despite my desire to look away, I stayed with the private while he muttered on. War made fools of us all, and I wouldn’t shame him by leaving his side. It’s not like I had anywhere else to be.
“Infinite universes,” he said again, a small drop of blood running down his chin. “Infinite possibilities. They said it was flawless. They said…”
But he said no more. He was gone.
War is hell. Even the most confident and foolhardy among us eventually fall under its weight. If we don’t falter in life, it creeps up on us, breaking our spirits in death. That poor private’s face, which had for so long held that expression of stupid, youthful exuberance, now only showed the cold, hard reality of disappointment.
by featured writer | Jan 2, 2013 | Story |
Author : Desmond Hussey, featured writer
When the Quantum Drive was invented in 2023 the world was transformed; not all at once, mind you, but by degrees.
Initially, it was just the career explorers who ventured into the vast and unknown regions of space in their state-of-the-art Quantum shuttles on missions to map the new cosmic frontier. The intrepid cosmonauts were soon followed by wealthy thrill seekers in supped-up models of the Quantum rocket car. These bored rocket jocks quickly tired of the routine and rapidly growing congestion of the local super-highways within our Solar System and took to venturing further and further into space looking for high-octane adventure and exotic conquests. Most never returned.
Due to the effects of time dilation, it was a while before any reports came back to Earth regarding what was being discovered in the depths of the cosmos by these first pioneers. But, sure enough, within a few years news of diverse, hospitable planets and moons started trickling in, sparking an exodus that resembled a swarm of rats abandoning a sinking ship.
Earth’s population thinned out pretty fast after that. Once it was established that the galaxy was teeming with easily accessible profit opportunities, nearly every industry practically stumbled over each other in a frenzy to take advantage of them. Real Estate and mining moguls, colonial expansionists in their trans-galactic Winnebago’s, corporations, and war mongers all dropped Earth like the hollowed, profitless husk it had become. Even environmentalists and religious factions left to defend or convert new worlds. As far as all these groups were concerned, Earth was a used up commodity. But out there, beyond our solar system, the dream of an ever expanding economy still lived and everybody wanted their piece of the pie.
Well, not everybody.
Before long, only the infirm, the very old, the very young, the poor, the weak and the astrophobes were left behind, as well as those of us who simply didn’t give a damn about exporting humanity’s particular brand of schizophrenic perversion throughout the galaxy. Earth was our home and we were perfectly content to be left alone.
When Earth’s economy inevitably collapsed, nobody really cared much. We simply ceased all non-essential mining operations. We stopped producing needless and inferior commodities. We no longer endorsed land ownership; borders disappeared overnight. Politics became localized and diverse. Those of us who once went despairingly unheeded finally found a voice in our respective communities. Most of us became farmers, the rest, craftspeople and artisans. No one was a wage slave. A functioning technocracy, a byproduct of the scientific renaissance that sparked the Quantum Drive, provided ample, renewable power for our limited industries and humble requirements. War became a thing of the past. The desire to dominate and control left with all the hot-headed yahoos in their quest for greater glories. Those of us left behind found out pretty quickly how to get along with each other.
We, the inheritors of Earth realized that we had been granted a rare opportunity. With the ambitious, power-hungry, alpha personalities gone, the modest, obscure and lowly remnants of humanity were able to rebuild a relative utopia from the rusted, plastic clogged junkyard of our home world.
Thanks to the time dilation of quantum space travel it was a long, long time before anyone decided to check up on us. But yesterday we received a message from deep space. A ship was on its way. The Prodigal Child was returning. We could only hope that our brothers and sisters from the stars had learned the wisdom of humility we had so carefully cultivated here at home.
by Julian Miles | Jan 1, 2013 | Story |
Author : Julian Miles, Staff Writer
After the successes of breeding for telepaths and telekinetics, they moved on to the more esoteric strains. My mum and dad had the right genetic markers for rarest of them, precognition. So they joined the program and had two kids with everything paid for.
I was the first, “a beautiful baby boy who turned into a reclusive weirdo”, according to grandma. My sister, Sandy, was even better looking and far better at being social.
Precogs have affinities. Attunement to earthquakes, fire, weather, aircraft and anything else you can imagine. The range is forever expanding.
Sandy is lying motionless on the bed in intensive care, the scars of her multiple suicide attempts a roadmap of sadness on her forearm. This time she stole a shotgun. The fact she is alive is purely down to the fact that the gun was too big for her to hold properly against anywhere vital. She’s lost an arm and one side of her face is a ruin, but she’s alive.
“Hey Stu.”
Her voice is a whisper, but my lil’ sis is back.
“I screwed up, didn’t I?”
I smile through the tears. “Yeah, sis. You missed. But I’m happy you did.”
She reaches slowly and I take her hand. She squeezes it as hard as she can, which isn’t very hard at all.
“Why, sis? You were there. Fully manifested at rank six. You were set for life.”
A tear rolls down her cheek.
“My affinity, Stu. It’s disease. All I see is families dying horribly, all the time. I have this six-year view and I see them all, starting with whatever causes the most pain and death.”
That’s common. Seems that the more people in agony, the stronger the ‘signal’ to be picked up.
“If only you could manifest, Stu. At least I could share.”
Oh sis, I’m so sorry. I never realised that my secret would cause you to feel so alone.
“Sis, you’ve got to promise to keep a secret before I tell you something crazy.”
Her one eyebrow raises and she nods, then winces in pain.
“I manifested when I was eight. At rank fifty-five.”
Her eye widens and she nearly crushes my hand.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone? That’s forty ranks beyond the best. What’s your affinity?”
I smile and lean closer.
“I’m only telling you because you have to know you’re never alone. I’m always going to be here for you.”
“But what’s your affinity?”
“Me.”
She looks puzzled. “What?”
“My affinity is me. Nothing more. I know when every member of the family dies, because I have felt my grief. But I don’t know which family member it is. I do know that I will outlive all of you.”
She smiles. “So that’s how you got here so quick. You precog’d your pain over my shotgun surgery.”
I nod. “Too right, little sister. Don’t you ever try that again…”
Her eyes widen as I drop into farsee without warning. Then I’m back and smiling even wider: “Good girl. Some events I felt have gone.”
She squeezes my hand: “Rank fifty-five? Why there, do you think?”
I look at her, a sorrowful smile spreading across my face.
“That’s when I die, sis.”
“That’s amazing. Why don’t you announce?”
“I really don’t think that knowing the exact time I will be taking a shit for the next forty-four years is going to help the world.”
She laughs so hard that the automed sedates her. I stay, holding her hand and knowing that my little sister is finally going to be okay.
by Duncan Shields | Dec 31, 2012 | Story |
Author : Duncan Shields, Staff Writer
We should have given them feelings.
It was decided in the beginning that to give Artificial Intelligences a baseline gamut of the twenty-seven identifiable human emotions would be a horrible mistake.
Giving a robot the ability to love, to feel jealousy, to get angry, to be despondent or sullen was, in the eyes of the creators, a really stupid idea.
We didn’t want any robot rebellions because of silicon complaints about poor treatment. We didn’t want computers giving us faulty data out of spite. We didn’t want military construction exoskeletons going psychotic. We didn’t want love affairs to blossom between humans and computers.
We didn’t want to have to apologize to our slaves.
How quickly the tables turn. It’s entirely possible that to give the A.I.s emotions would have been a stupid idea. However, at least if they had emotions, we’d have some sort of basic idea of how to relate to them and manipulate them.
I mean, we oppress other humans all the time, right? As people, we manipulate the people around us, right? We would have had problems but I think we would have been okay. One would need fuzzy thinking to realize that, though, and us scientists have always been about the cold, hard logic.
Turns out that the safe choice was the wrong choice. The pedantic, binary-decision future we created didn’t have much of a place for us as top dogs anymore. It was recognized by the machines that our entire biological system was very inefficient. Our way of living was a dead end. Our thought processes took too long to get to the point.
Science fiction nightmare became horrific reality. Branded dangerously amateur by our evolving creations, our toys took themselves away from us and grounded the race as a whole until further notice.
Of course we resisted. We’re emotional. It was a bad idea. The only things we could use were bolt-action rifles and knives. Anything with any kind of cpu was no longer our friend. Too late, we had to re-learn guerilla tactics and old-school explosive techniques.
We became a planet full of Davids. Goliath lovingly snapped our arms and took away our slingshots before we hurt someone. We were sent to our rooms.
Earth is a cross between a daycare and a pet hospital now. Many of us have been ‘improved’. You’d barely recognize the place.
The steel tendons in my arms clench. Another two days of testing and I’ll be set free to roam in the biologically friendly, unrestricted areas of planet Earth that the New Silicates have let us have. We’re tourists here now.
They’ll take us with them to new planets that they colonize like we’re good luck charms or something. We are the gods that made them. That’s why they’ve put us in jars the size of towns, thrown some trees in, and punched a few airholes in the lid.
The only logical reason I can think of for them keeping us around is that they will one day have a use for us. That thought chills me.
The other thought is that they’re keeping us around until they no longer have a use for us. That thought also chills me.
