Sci Fi
The 8th floor balcony, the beach, and a father's love
The man tapped a red square to begin recording. Before, he would have never made a recording like this. He found it odd that so many people were making these types of videos. He was more old school then that, but that was before it happened. He recorded himself every night in his living room. He didn’t really know why. The best he could figure at least he was doing something if aliens ever came down, they could see what the last humans on earth were doing, at least in this part of the world. Otherwise, just another useless app on an even more useless mobile phone. He positioned the phone and tripod in front of the fireplace. A small fire burned in the background. He always thought that these winter recordings would sound more inviting with the sound of crackling wood as a backdrop of an otherwise eerily quiet environment.
By Andrew Zaat 5 years ago in Fiction
Heartless No More
My Dear Reader, First I must apologize for the sloppy penmanship, unfortunately I am not left-handed. But I digress… We’ve all heard the saying “wearing your heart on your sleeve”. Well, now that saying is far more literal than figurative. You see, as technology began to encompass more and more of our daily routines we, humans that is, began to feel less and less. Becoming more like the programmed algorithms we had become oh so reliant on to handle even the most menial of tasks, such as finding a connection. Due to our reliance of programs such as social media, dating websites, virtual reality and anything else that could create even the slightest semblance of emotional connection, every human being has slowly lost their innate ability to foster an emotional connection with… well anything.
By Charles MacGregor5 years ago in Fiction
L.O.C.T.
Air Force Technical Sergeant Alicia Petersen scrutinized her computer screen, she had received an impossible e-mail and was trying to make sense of what she read while aware of the immediate need to report any breach such as this to her supervisor. The email though, was blowing her mind, and she hadn't even opened the attachment.
By Earle D Swope5 years ago in Fiction
A Golden Connection
Joe drank his coffee and the smell brought back memories; A cup of Joe for my little Joe, his mother used to say to him. She named him Joe for that very reason, it was an Earthly phrase that his grandfather used to use and it always made her think of him. He thought of her as he washed his cup and returned to his locker to suit up for day 3 of the sub-station cleanup project he and his team were finishing.
By Iryna Paikoush5 years ago in Fiction
Ophelia Ripples
She rose out of the water laughing, spitting up water and pointing straight up at the sky. “Bitches used to worship the moon,” Emmy cackled, pulling long tangles of hair away from her face so she could properly address the three corpses perched at the head of the pond. She waited, respectfully, for someone to respond, but must have sunk back underwater before either could think of something clever to say.
By em brisson5 years ago in Fiction
The Crane Locket
The children were not permitted to wear them. Only when their minds had set would they join the Conscience. Teenagers sought knock-off Lockets, sneaking them from a black market and wearing them when adults weren’t around. No one explains what the Lockets are, what they do—no one can—so they are just part of the landscape of adulthood, a privilege to covet, a marker of coming of age.
By Jessica Sipos5 years ago in Fiction
This Steel Soul
Android Processor Unit 54783 snapped awake at the feeling of a sudden electric surge. He hadn’t really been asleep, because he hadn’t been able to dream for the five hours he spent in his cocoon shaped recharging booth. As he stepped down, muscle memory compelled him to run a mechanical hand along the surface of his head, fingers passing through transplanted hair. Attached to his back by a plastic harness were pulsating wires and a coolant system, a monitor running alongside them for the benefit of engineers looking over cooling and power levels or any other kind of system damage. APU 54783 had been damaged only twice since he had come into existence, once when his body malfunctioned after handling an NIB magnet, and a second time when a dormant grenade had gone off in his hand. He could remember seeing blood spurting from the tear, but he also knew that to be impossible. What the engineers had mopped off the floor as he was transported for repairs was something closer to petroleum jelly.
By Stephen Smith5 years ago in Fiction
Doomsday Diary
Doomsday Diary It catches my eye. Glinting in the dust and rubble. With a quick glance over my shoulder to check nobody is in sight I snatch it up, tucking it into my jeans pocket to look at later. Maybe it will be a clue. Or, at least something I could trade. Sorry Granny. I know that’s a bit of an unglamorous end for your precious locket. The one I fingered so many times as a child. Sitting on your lap, looking into that craggy face full of stories, feeling like you had all the answers but you wanted me to find them out for myself.
By Catherine shovlin5 years ago in Fiction
Neon Green
The blanket slumped off the side of the mattress. Sleeping in the house, especially when their old fan was broken, was impossible. Dry dusty heat simmered under the lead-lined ceiling, and Hara felt like a soup ingredient, boiling in a big pot. She was splayed out on the blissfully empty mattress, trying not to think about how little she had slept on her few precious hours off.
By Brittany MacKeown5 years ago in Fiction
