Sci Fi

You can't eat gold
It was in moments like these Aaron would ponder the things his father would tell him as a child. “It’ll be like the days of the pioneer’s son. Freedom. Ungoverned. Free from modernity.”
By Juniper Whittall5 years ago in Fiction
The End of the World As I Know It
Jack opened his laptop as if the internet anxiously awaited his wisdom. He had a habit of spending hours scrolling through social media. Several years after earning his Bachelor’s Degree in Literature from Brown University, he spent most of his time online criticizing people’s opinions and overusing the term “Kafka-esque.”
By Tucker Williams5 years ago in Fiction
The Last Remnant
Through a window she gazed out at the devastation. A reality worse than death loomed larger than life outside cracked and, in some cases, shattered windows throughout the house. Trees had toppled. Power lines were fallen and sporadically sparking in final fights against failure. Dust hung thickly in the air, turning the day into night for what might turn into forever. Smoke billowed into clouds that formed overhead and in the distance. She saw no birds, no bees and heard only the various sounds of sirens streak futility through the city. The sounds seemed to amplify through the remaining broken windows and foundation breaks the great shaking had caused. She heard strange booming alarms she’d never heard before in her young life. And this was only her view of the ravaged world, seen through this window whose crack remained too slight to allow the tainted air to invade.
By Christopher Carrolli5 years ago in Fiction
The Last Human
Doctor Joey Wilson, age 873, looks out his high rise apartment at the bleak, reddish landscape that at one time a long time ago was a thriving metropolis filled with actual flesh and blood humans. Not like today. You see, Wilson is the last of his kind. The planet is now dominated and ran by androids, robots and finally the closest relationship to humans - the cyborgs. The result of an apocalyptic takeover by the metal creatures? Nope. The end was much more subtle...and ironic.
By Albert L Larsen 5 years ago in Fiction
Lethargy
I have never really had passion for anything. I have never had hopes, aspirations or plans for the future. As much as there’s a thick air of lost ambitions surrounding me, lost dreams and a strong desire to fulfil plans, if I had turned 30 in what the world was 7 years ago, I would be the perfect description of a lost soul, drifting through the winds with no direction.
By Damilola5 years ago in Fiction
Remember.
Josephine begins to wake. A loud bleating forcefully filling her ears as she attempts to open her eyes. A thick layer of dust and grit sealing them closed. She forces her eyes open as an involuntary panic shivers over her cold, depleted body. She remembers.
By April Phillips5 years ago in Fiction
All That Remains
It used to be known as Colorado. Now there is no name. People worried about the Juan de Fuca plate but the drought and fires that mounted from below were worse than anything. I was living in Alamosa when the evacuations began and barely made it to Mosca within a week. Strokes, heart attacks and exhaustion took over seven hundred lives inside of two months. If Lee hadn't shared his water with me that day in the Great Dunes I'd be one of them.
By Christopher Gallo5 years ago in Fiction
The Line
She waited in line. Every so often the line would shuffle forward a few paces, the parched ground beneath their feet releasing dust into the air. There was no talking, not because it was forbidden, but because there was nothing to say. They all waited in line. That was what they did.
By Ryan Thomason5 years ago in Fiction
Ascension Day
Finally after all my hard work it's happening. The door to the Command Center opened to reveal more than a dozen people scattered around the large concrete room busily performing their tasks. The heart of all our effort. Monitors of varying size cover half the room with information of every sort, while people with tablets and communications devices track and record all our progress. As excited as I am to finally be promoted and permitted into the highest level of command it pales in the shadow of Ascension Day. Our people have worked so hard and sacrificed so much, Now it is here.
By Jon Gray5 years ago in Fiction
November Pain
It’s Thursday again. I know it’s Thursday because the view is always the same on Thursday. As I stand here on this rocky cliff overlooking the valley, to my right I see the Appalachian Mountains, green, lush and full of beauty and life. To my left, scorched earth, burning trees and craters the size of a football field from when they fired their artillery on us.
By Jared Dadey5 years ago in Fiction
Happy Birthday, Kenz
“We’re almost there, Kenzie,” said Jana as she looked across the desolated wreckage of her old neighborhood. Lifting her hooded head, Kenzie glanced at the piles of rubble briefly and then turned warily back to Jana. With her bandana and goggles on, Jana couldn’t exactly read her little sister much; and anymore, she felt like they were growing apart. Kenzie hadn’t said much since the bombs had dropped.
By Anthony Crutcher5 years ago in Fiction
Extinction
All I knew in those moments were the smell of gunpowder, the burning of acrid smoke, and a red blur in front of me. Paint? Blood? It shifted and through the raining dirt, I could see a fox. The first living creature id seen in years……… and it was dying. Its fur was matted with blood and scorches in places from the blast, as it convulsed in pain. The worst thing though was that as far as I could see there didn't appear to be another fox in sight, It was alone. Its paw weakly touched my chest, the first living thing to touch me in forever.
By James Whaley5 years ago in Fiction