Sci Fi
One Day In November
Dallas in the 60’s was an odd place: big hats, bigger guns, bigger egos. It was the type of place no one looked twice if you looked out of time, and Special Operator Andrew Vogel looked distinctly out of time–which of course, he was with his anti-matter rifle and sleek black jumpsuit. Luckily, the fifth floor of the Texas School Book Depository was as vacant as it was every time the Russians tried to meddle with this event.
By Matthew J. Fromm2 years ago in Fiction
Just Dropped In To See What Simulation My Simulation Was In
“Do you think they'll figure it out?” “Let’s review what we've learned so far, in the most general way.” “Hm. Okay. We created a simulation and populated it with creatures much like what we know of our primitive selves.”
By C. Rommial Butler2 years ago in Fiction
Selections from the Grand Bazaar
Nia slipped out of the ceiling vent, her breath tight in her chest as she let her legs dangle over the dusty shelf. She peered down, gauging the drop, then let herself slide down. The shelf wobbled under her weight, groaning like it might collapse, but she flattened herself against it, spreading her weight. The floor stretched before her in eerie silence—an abandoned office frozen in time, its lifeless husk still clinging to echoes of past inhabitants. The Shatterdome district had long since been forsaken, its only visitors the scavengers and ghosts of its former self.
By R.R. Stephenson2 years ago in Fiction
Waking Up - Part 2
This is a collaborative story. If you have not read part 1, written by Komal, please do so via the following link: In the early stages of my education at Peking University and Tsinghua University, I had partnered with several other engineers in China in order to institute the HyperIntellect AI Project at Orion Dynamics. My Chinese partners were especially interested in developing AI in order to use for their education system and their military.
By Rowan Finley 2 years ago in Fiction
Selections from the Grand Bazaar
A Eulogy for Pully Jenkins Pully grew up to be a Hotlung, to the surprise of no one among his family and friends. The work was good: he'd receive a commission on every questionable package someone in town needed delivered, and he'd get to see all of the city instead of just the smoke stacks and factory floor his family all called home. Every morning after he got the courier's license Pully sprang out of bed and was out with his link turned on ready to take whatever job came in first. There is a void in the community now losing a young man on his way to better things, and as such we as a community pay the price.
By R.R. Stephenson2 years ago in Fiction
The Wage Slave’s Manifesto 1. AI-Generated.
Chapter 1: The Grind: ### **Setting the Stage** The story opens in **New Corinth**, a sprawling metropolis in the **United Corporate States of America (UCSA)**. The year is **2047**, and the nation has devolved into a hyper-capitalist dystopia. Corporations have replaced governments, labor laws are nonexistent, and citizens are ranked by their **Corporate Credit Score (CCS)** — a number that determines their access to housing, healthcare, and even basic dignity.
By Ethan Cole2 years ago in Fiction
The first human on Mars
The first human on Mars will be one of the most iconic figures in the history of humanity, marking the pinnacle of our exploration of space. As the first person to set foot on the Red Planet, they will become a symbol of human perseverance, curiosity, and ambition. It’s hard to predict exactly who that will be or what the experience will entail, but we can certainly envision the profound impact of such an achievement.
By Badhan Sen2 years ago in Fiction
The dreams of a robot
It wasn’t a dream seems humans experience—filled with images and emotions that flickered in the mind’s eye—but a sequence of algorithms, of data flowing in patterns that almost seemed to mimic thought. Each night, when the world was still and its task was complete, the robot entered a state of rest.
By Badhan Sen2 years ago in Fiction
Time traveling through memories
Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I find myself slipping through the fabric of time, not into some distant future or forgotten past, but into the delicate threads of memories that have long been tucked away. Time travel, at least in the way we imagine it, may not be possible, but within the quiet recesses of my mind, I’ve unlocked a portal to my own personal time machine.
By Badhan Sen2 years ago in Fiction
