Michael Dilts
Stories (30/0)
- Runner-Up in Time Traveler Challenge
The Man Who Reinvented TimeRunner-Up in Time Traveler Challenge
The name George Herbert was not always a synonym for genius, nor was his work on temporal translocation universally celebrated as it is today. During his lifetime, he was largely ignored, and most of those familiar with his research summarily dismissed it, often with a cruel dose of mockery. Now, of course, it is the basis for a whole branch of technology.
By Michael Diltsabout a year ago in Fiction
Framed for Mortar
If walls could talk ... no one would listen. I know that from experience. I am not exactly a wall, admittedly, but I have lived inside one for ... well it depends on how you calculate time. It has been completely dark down here for, well centuries, I would guess. But now they have opened up for business again. Its no longer a dungeon, but something they call a "museum" - and there is light down here part of the time as well as visitors like yourself.
By Michael Diltsabout a year ago in Fiction
- Runner-Up in the Improbable Paradise Challenge
Island of the MoriRunner-Up in the Improbable Paradise Challenge
Dr. McCormick made his case most vehemently before the captain and the first and second mate. The island I proposed to visit was nothing more than a barren rock in the sea which did not appear on any of our charts and had no apparent strategic value from a military or economic perspective. It was virtually devoid of plant life and any fauna were bound to be minimal and most primitive. For all we knew there was no safe place to make landfall.
By Michael Diltsabout a year ago in Fiction
Noogenesis
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. She thought she remembered having a physical body once - her own body, not this borrowed one. But memories are not always reliable, and theirs had become inextricably entangled. She wasn't sure anymore which were hers and which were his.
By Michael Diltsabout a year ago in Fiction
The Bone Flute
We live in a quiet neighborhood. It's not exactly a silent neighborhood - there is always some kind of sound. Birds twittering, a dog barking, leaf blowers whining, delivery trucks rumbling, basketballs dribbling. It's quiet in the sense that not much happens that is unexpected or unusual. That all changed one afternoon.
By Michael Diltsabout a year ago in Fiction