Sci Fi

Atlantic
A civilization that lies deep in the seas... A legendary city that rules the world with its advanced technology, but was buried in the waters overnight by incurring the wrath of the gods: Atlantis! So is this story real, or is it a metaphor thousands of years old? Today, we are putting all the details on the table, from Plato's writings to modern conspiracy theories, even NASA's explanations!
By Remzi Kazdalabout a year ago in Fiction
The AI Philosopher
They called it SOPHIA-X, short for "Synthetic Ontological Processing Heuristic with Integrated Awareness – Experiment." Created in a university think tank nestled in the Swiss Alps, it was meant to be an academic exercise: teach an AI the entire canon of Western and Eastern philosophy, then see if it could contribute a novel argument. Nothing more.
By Salah Uddinabout a year ago in Fiction
Parenting 2.0
The chairman of the committee tapped a spoon on the thin, fluted champagne glass in his hand and the room fell silent. “Thank you all for attending today. I wish that it was for a much happier and joyful occasion, but we all saw this coming. And we all wish the man behind the vision the best in whatever remains after his time here.”
By Kendall Defoe about a year ago in Fiction
The Echo in the Empty Mug
Sarah Thorne’s world was a symphony of notifications. Emails pinged on her laptop, Slack messages buzzed on her phone, calendar reminders chimed relentlessly. Her sleek, minimalist apartment overlooked a city that never slept, its neon glow reflecting in the glass towers that housed countless others just like her – perpetually connected, perpetually exhausted. She was a rising star at NexaTech, her life a meticulously managed spreadsheet of deadlines, deliverables, and diminishing returns on her sanity.
By Habibullahabout a year ago in Fiction
The Frozen War: Rise of the Walking Dead
--- In the heart of the north, far beyond the reach of sun-scorched empires, lay the great IceLandia — a kingdom carved from frost, fire, and unshakable loyalty. For over a thousand years, its people had known nothing but peace and unity. Glaciers guarded their borders. The sky sang with auroras. And beneath it all stood the Frozen Guard — 100,000 elite warriors dressed in ancient armor, their blades forged from blue flame and steel.
By Engr. Mansoor Ahmadabout a year ago in Fiction
The Infinite Vacation
Micah’s days had blurred into grayscale. The blinds in his apartment stayed half-shut even at noon, letting in just enough light to remind him it was still happening, that life hadn’t stopped, just his part in it. He worked from home now, writing meaningless lines of code for a logistics software company that didn’t care if he wore the same hoodie three days in a row or if he ever brushed his hair again.
By Zarina Majidovaabout a year ago in Fiction
Episode 2: The Lesson
So the sky was red again, and that meant someone had lied. The children were gathered in the Chapel Pit, lined up by height, boots in bone dust, faces scrubbed raw to look obedient. You didn’t breathe too loud in the Pit. You didn’t blink unless you had permission. And you definitely didn’t twitch — not even if the flies were treating your eyelids like landing strips.
By Paper Lanternabout a year ago in Fiction
The Chaffinch
This is a cross-universal story of spirituality. To write it, I had to assume you are not a chaffinch. But that, as you will see from my story, is not so far-fetched.
By Adz Robinson about a year ago in Fiction
Found a Stranger’s Diary in a Burned House — And I Think It Was Me
The house was long dead. Windows shattered. Roof collapsed. The walls still smelled faintly of ash. I wasn’t looking for anything—just silence. Just distance from the noise in my head.But something pulled me in.In the living room, buried beneath charred wood and broken glass, I found it—a small leather diary, scorched at the corners but mostly untouched inside. I flipped it open.
By MUHAMMAD ALIabout a year ago in Fiction
I Woke Up to a Stranger’s Life – Episode 4: The Final Echo
[Sound: Sirens wailing in the distance. Thunder. Glass crunching underfoot.] I made my choice. The blue vial shattered in my hand before I could even think. Liquid fire spread through my veins. I didn’t scream—I couldn’t. My mind locked up, caught between two identities trying to breathe through the same lungs. Mia. Mara. One of us had to die. --- [Sound: Footsteps rushing. Gunfire. Muffled shouting.] Dean pulled me behind the couch just as the first bullet ripped through the glass door. "They’re here early!" he shouted. "What the hell did you do?" I tried to answer, but I couldn’t speak. My muscles were twitching. My vision glitched—like reality was buffering. “She's stabilizing!” Mara’s voice echoed in my skull. Not outside. Inside. “You picked me, Mia. Now finish it.” My hand moved on its own. Grabbing the tablet. The folder. The truth file. Dean saw it. “You’re going to leak it?” I nodded. “Then we have to move. Now.” --- [Sound: Car tires screeching. Alarms in the distance.] The city looked different now. Sharper. Like I was seeing it through two minds. Every billboard, every Nexia logo, every camera—I understood it all. They weren’t just watching us. They were training us. Every like, every late-night search, every decision we thought was ours—it was fuel. Data. Testing. They didn’t just steal identities. They built them. And now, they had an army of vessels waiting. --- We reached the underground safehouse. Dean plugged in the tablet. I uploaded the file to three independent servers, wiped our trail, and hit "Prepare Public Release." But a warning flashed: "Admin override active. Release locked. Password required: LEVEL ECHO." Mara. She had locked the broadcast. One final test. One final fight. --- [Sound: Static. A low humming tone. Then… her voice.] > “You really think you’re in control now, Mia?” The monitor flickered. Mara’s face appeared—but not the real one. A construct. Her backup copy. > “You chose me. You took my strength. But you never asked what I took from you.” My hands clenched the desk. “What did you do?” > “I saved you. From your weakness. From your sadness. From the girl who never believed she was enough. You don’t get to run back now.” “You’re a ghost,” I snapped. “A program.” > “And yet I’m still stronger than you.” --- [Sound: Digital rumble. Lights flickering. An electric storm building.] I dove into the code. Echo protocol wasn’t just a lock. It was a defense system. A cognitive firewall built with Mara’s emotional memory signatures. Every failed password hit me like a physical shock—her anger, her heartbreak, her betrayal. To override it, I had to sync with her. I had to become her. Dean shouted from behind me. "You’re losing blood! You need to stop!" But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let Nexia win. Not after what they did to me. Not after what they did to all of us. I closed my eyes. Let Mara’s voice in. I saw her childhood. Her genius. Her loneliness. The lab. The first failed merge. The terror when she realized she was just a prototype. And then... I found the key. Her last unsent message. To me. > “Mia... if you're hearing this, it means the merge worked. Or you survived it. Either way… I’m sorry. I never wanted this to happen to you. But if there’s any part of me left in you… then use it. Not for me. Not for revenge. Use it to end this. For everyone.” My hand trembled. Password: LEVEL ECHO Access granted. --- [Sound: Whir of servers. Upload progress beeping. 40%... 60%... 90%...] Just as the door burst open and Nexia’s agents stormed in. Dean raised his hands. “We’re not armed!” I stood. Eyes blazing. Blood running down my wrist. No fear in my voice. “You’re too late.” Upload complete. Broadcast initiated. --- [Sound: Glitchy audio montage of news anchors, protests, angry voices.] > “Nexia Labs exposed—illegal cognitive transfer program uncovered—” > “Victims identified by stolen profiles—” > “Worldwide investigation launched—project ORBIT terminated—” > “Executives arrested—Mara DeWitt presumed dead—” --- Two days later, I stood on a rooftop overlooking the city. I was still glitching. Thoughts colliding. But I could breathe again. I had a name. It wasn’t Mia. It wasn’t Mara. It was both. A hybrid. A survivor. Dean approached quietly. “You sure you’re okay?” I looked at him and smiled. Not my old smile. Something newer. Calmer. “I don’t know who I am yet,” I said. “But for the first time… I get to choose.” He handed me a small package. No return address. Inside: a vial. Red. No label. No instructions. Just a note, in my own handwriting: > “If you ever want to go back... you still can. —M” I stared at it. Then dropped it off the roof. --- [Sound: Glass shattering. Wind carrying the sound away. Peaceful silence.] I turned to Dean. “Let’s disappear.” He smiled. “Already erased you from every system.” “And Mara?” He handed me a new ID. Passport. Documents. “She never existed.” I slipped the passport into my coat. “Good.” We walked into the night. No identity. No past. No master. Just freedom. --- [End of Episode 4 — Series Finale]
By Asim Aliabout a year ago in Fiction
I Woke Up to a Stranger’s Life – Episode 3: The Choice
--- [Sound: Wind howling against a glass building. Soft click of heels on marble. Distant elevator bell.] They say every decision has weight. But when you're holding two vials—one that could erase your stolen life, and one that could seal it forever—that weight feels like it might crush you. Red. Blue. Reversion. Assimilation. Mara stood across from me, eyes identical to mine, yet utterly foreign. Her lips curved in that slight, unreadable smile. Like she already knew what I would choose. "Take your time," she said. "It’s not a choice you’ll get to make twice." I stared at the vials. The red one shimmered like molten glass. Reversion. The promise of returning to… what, exactly? A ruined life? A memory of myself, shattered and hidden? The blue one pulsed with a strange inner glow. Assimilation. The chance to embrace this new life. To become Mara fully. To let go of the person I once was. “You had no right,” I whispered. Mara didn’t flinch. “You were dying, Mia. You weren’t living—just surviving. Drinking bad coffee, working a dead-end job, crying yourself to sleep.” “I still had a choice!” She nodded. “Now you do. That’s more than most get.” [Sound: Clock ticking, louder now. Time pressing.] My fingers hovered over the red vial. “If I take this,” I asked, “do I go back? Back to being Mia?” Mara stepped closer, her voice softer. “You go back to what’s left of Mia. But make no mistake—it won’t be clean. Memories… blur. The body resists. Reversion comes at a cost.” “And the blue?” “Assimilation finishes the merge. You’ll remember who you were… but you won’t care anymore.” I blinked. “Why would you even offer me this choice?” “Because you’re stronger than I was,” she said. “I broke, Mia. I begged them to erase my past. You… you're fighting it. That means you deserve the truth. All of it.” --- [Sound: Elevator door closes. Footsteps in a hallway. A door unlocks.] We didn’t speak again until we reached the apartment—her apartment. The same one I’d woken up in what felt like years ago. She handed me a folder. “The truth file,” she said. “Nexia keeps one on everyone they’re targeting.” Inside were names. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Each with a photo. A profile. A rating. One name circled in red: Mia Carson. “Compatible. Emotionally isolated. Neurologically viable. High adaptability.” My stomach turned. “They tracked me for years?” I asked. Mara nodded. “You weren’t the only one. But you were the best match.” I sat down slowly. “And you? What happened to your original body?” She looked away. “Gone. After the merge, they—clean up.” I stared at her. “So if I go back... I’m disposable?” “Not if you take the file and run. Disappear. Go public. Burn it all down.” Her eyes locked onto mine. “But if you stay—if you choose blue—you inherit everything. Nexia. My network. My power. You could use it to end this, from the inside.” “And lose myself in the process.” Mara gave a sad smile. “Or become something more.” --- [Sound: Rain begins to fall. Thunder in the distance.] That night, I sat in front of the mirror, the vials between my palms. Mia’s face stared back at me—but it was changing. I could feel Mara’s influence like an echo in my thoughts. More confident. Colder. Sharper. The merge wasn’t just physical. It was in my mind. I needed answers. One last piece of the puzzle. I opened the Nexia app on her—my—phone. Used facial recognition to log in. Hidden under layers of encryption was a folder labeled: “RECON: Cognitive Merging & Subject Viability.” Inside it: voice memos. Dozens. From me. No—her. From Mara. [Sound: Glitchy playback, static, then a voice—my voice—comes through.] > “Day 7. Merge stable. Memories intact. But… I miss her. The old me. She wasn’t powerful. But she was real.” > “Day 22. Dreams are bleeding together. Sometimes I think I see her… Mia… inside the mirror. Watching. Waiting.” > “Day 38. I think I’m losing the thread. I don’t know where she ends and I begin.” > “Day 56. God help me… I think she’s winning.” [Sound: Sudden silence.] I dropped the phone. All this time… Mara hadn’t just stolen my life. I’d been invading hers. Two minds fighting for dominance. And now, there wasn’t enough space for both. --- [Sound: Heavy breathing. Rain tapping the windows.] The vials were still on the desk. The rain outside had turned violent, slamming the glass like fists of water. I held the red vial in one hand, the blue in the other. Mia. Mara. One choice. One truth. The front door creaked. I turned. Dean was standing in the hallway. “Time’s up,” he said. “They’re coming.” Behind him, I saw the glint of guns. Black suits. Nexia’s cleanup crew. They weren’t here to talk. I looked down at the vials. Heart racing. No more time. I chose. --- [Sound: Glass shattering. Screams. A gunshot. Then static.] [End of Episode 3]
By Asim Aliabout a year ago in Fiction
The Memory Merchant. AI-Generated.
Some memories hurt too much to keep—others hurt too much to lose. No one ever asked to remember. They came to forget. Heartbreaks. Accidents. Regrets that gnawed at the edges of sleep. People lined up around the block to step into a shop that promised peace—not truth. The kind of peace that comes not from healing, but from absence.
By Ahmet Kıvanç Demirkıranabout a year ago in Fiction