Sci Fi

Grandma Jenna's Heart-Shaped Locket
Sunday, August 6, 3256 Dear Elephanie, Let me start with that question you asked. There wasn't enough of "the usual stuff" for us to keep living in bodies. Mom put it to me this way some time ago when I was younger, when my data was less developed. Before that, I kind of figured I was different from the Spacers I saw in the Feed and met at Convention. We're still a little like you. We go outside (never further than the mailbox for me), stay inside sometimes. Watch the Feed, eat and all the rest of it. Go to the bathroom. Go to Convention. Fall in love when we get older, sometimes. Mom never did but I'd like to, with another Wave of course. Make friends (mostly at Convention), buy groceries, pet the cat, feed the cat, react to the cat dying. Mittens died again this morning, I'm still mad about it. But I always felt a little different from the Spacers on the Feed and at Convention, even when I was really, really young data. Mom’s older than me, over a thousand. That’s pretty old, huh?
By Carl Creighton5 years ago in Fiction
The Vacationers
Remote. That’s the best way to describe the land that Gina sees as she sits perched on the edge of the hill. It’s the tallest hill around and it’s taken her an hour to reach the summit—although it was a very leisurely hour.
By T.J. Samek5 years ago in Fiction
Creation
Creation He stood and stared at his reflection pulling faces like a child would, to see if it caused any reactions stirred any memories or caused anything, that would be a change to the subsistence that was his present existence. He’d done this thousands of times and dreaded the thought that he would do it thousands more, he looked down at the sink and gripped at it aggressively, the anger at the situation coming up hot and fast. Then just as fast as it had come on it was cooled, tempered.
By Joshua Parkinson5 years ago in Fiction
Heart and Soul
London 2025 Eric runs his hands through his long, tousled blonde hair, sighing as he takes off his glasses and cleans them on his sweater vest. The tablet sitting on the table before him flashes TEST FAILED. After hundreds of attempts over the course of four years, he takes a moment to focus on his breath alone, considering his options before trying again.
By Logan Wheeler5 years ago in Fiction
A Retrieval in Times Square
When the arm console beeped to life, it signaled that the internal temperature of the powered armor read fifty-two degrees. External temperature was -140, without wind.
By Ryan Ellison5 years ago in Fiction
I Am Ruin
No-one could remember when the words began appearing on the architecture of modern civilization. It was a hideous graffiti, painted without care of style or aesthetics. The words dripped a heavy black ink that ran as if slowly applied to the surface. The style was not artful and it had a homogeneous consistency that suggested the same author. The message was unsettling and filled with rage as if the words themselves were sentient. I Am Ruin the words read, the implication was ominous and malignant. It wasn't noticeable at first, the placements were haphazard and random, not robust but thin and crooked. It was only after it was too late that people made any sort of connection to the writing and their arrival. Memory cannot recall where they came from either or when exactly things began to change, there was no big show of it. It was a reconnaissance operation and then an infiltration, an operation of stealth and silence. Did they arrive or were they born of the earth? A question never to be answered.
By Jared Bushnell 5 years ago in Fiction
2062
Private ownership is a thing of the past. The year is 2062. The State regulates everything for its citizens, rations are doled out regularly at what were once large grocery store chains. Citizens are evaluated before they reach adulthood and are given a Government Assigned Occupation (GAO). Currency doesn't exist anymore, at least not in the physical world. In an unregulated part of the internet, the dark web, anonymous individuals use digital cryptocurrencies to buy and sell all kinds of contraband: Art, uncensored writings, unlicensed laptops, illegal programs such as TOR and TailOS, and even drugs and weapons. Kevin McAffee is a dark web vendor, he started out by selling just Third Eye, a psychedelic but has expanded his stock to include amphetamines, empathogens, and other mind altering substances. Kevin's GAO was at his local post office, which made sending out packages that had illegal substances hidden in them just a little bit easier. He was approached with the business idea on the Holo-net, a government run virtual space where people could connect with friends and family and even interact with strangers in the safety of their own home. For the past few years it has been illegal to leave your house with a Permit of Transit, approved by The State of course. More and more revolutionary factions had begun to spring up in opposition to The State, and at this point people only left their houses to go to their GAO or pick up rations from The State run superstores, so nobody really reacted when just being outside was now considered “suspicious activity.”
By qylar K5 years ago in Fiction
Ripple Effect
Vibrations. Deep, slow, oscillating vibrations are moving through Anna’s cold back as if she were laying on a refrigerated sub-woofer.
By David Schuler5 years ago in Fiction
The Heart of the Dragon
I’m exposed. Waiting for Jamie to arrive distracts me from my usual vigilance. The Royal Standard Army contingent is in sight one hundred yards away from my location—too close for my safety. I dive into my hidey-hole as fast as the cat I named myself after. Now, I wait and pray they don’t see me in the dark cleft of rubble.
By Amy Proebstel5 years ago in Fiction
Steady
“Inferts and Repros together, in pursuit of a better world!” The Supervisor’s tinny voice echoed off the compound walls, where men with guns looked down over the crowd.
By C.S. Dinkel5 years ago in Fiction
We Are Each Other's
“And there will be sun?” Wren pressed. Her tiny shoulders stiffened. Her gaze darkened. Birdlike, her name apt. She was stronger than she looked.
By M. Lariah5 years ago in Fiction
The End of the New Beginning
To whomever it may concern; Everything was set. At this point in time, I wasn’t sure if I was the last human alive or not, but it was vital that I protected my newest model in case of an emergency. Reluctantly, I stabbed the needle of the alpha-iota syringe into my neck and injected the transmitter into my bloodstream. I injected the leftover blood into the glass heart-shaped locket that had survived what my husband did not; if this was going to work, my DNA needed to be contained in something to which I had an emotional attachment. Thirty minutes should be enough time for the alpha-iota serum to create an organic connection with my consciousness and transfer the information to the Biological Reinforced Artificially Intelligent Nucleus, or B.R.A.I.N., in the locket. When that locket is destroyed, my human body will instantly die and my consciousness will be transferred. If the time comes where I have no other options, I can finally connect my consciousness to my greatest creation yet—Artificial Model Resurrection 2 (AMR2). With this model as a body, I can finally finish what I started.
By Audrey Linton5 years ago in Fiction