Sci Fi
Selections from the Grand Bazaar. Content Warning.
"Stop moving it, I'm trying to get the thing to sync up!" Maria thrashed with irritation as her sister tried to wrestle the dirty headset from her head. The two girls had wandered into the Roman Stacks outside their tenement. The city spread for miles all around them, but in these piles of waste the girls were never looked at as street urchins, just residents, and they loved every second of it. The place hardly had a view of the sky when you stepped into it, its abandoned shacks and leftover garbage piled into the heavens forming towers that rivaled the Corporate buildings downtown. Vargos was an urban jewel looking at those towers, but these towers were a monument to the filth the city never cleaned, just shuffled from one area to another.
By R.R. Stephenson2 years ago in Fiction
The Leonardo Paradox
The climb to the top of the Duomo seemed endless. Sarah's muscles burned as she ascended the narrow maintenance stairs between the dome's inner and outer shells. The manuscript grew heavier with each step, as if the temporal energy it contained was responding to their elevation.
By Shane D. Spear2 years ago in Fiction
The Leonardo Paradox
Sarah found sanctuary in the shadows of the Duomo's crypt. As light filtered through narrow windows, she finally had a chance to study the manuscript properly. But something was wrong. Pages she had memorized in 1924 were different now – some text had vanished entirely, while new passages appeared in their place.
By Shane D. Spear2 years ago in Fiction
The Leonardo Paradox
Sarah had chosen to run. Neither the Guardians nor the Societá del Tempo could be trusted – Leonardo's warning echoed too strongly in her mind. Now she raced through Florence's narrow streets as the afternoon sun cast long shadows between the buildings. The compass in her hand ticked with increasing urgency, its dials spinning wildly whenever she changed direction.
By Shane D. Spear2 years ago in Fiction
Privelege #13
The teacher flickered at the front of the classroom. She never got angry, never shouted. The closest she got was, "You know I will need to escalate this if you don't make the right choice." Occasionally it was, "This behaviour has triggered a call to the Leadership Team," or "That behaviour has triggered a call home." Paper aeroplanes, pencils and chunks of glue sticks flew through the air. Occasionally, a sticky lump hit its target, eliciting a shrill squeal. The lesson plan, generated at the start of the lesson within moments, and perfectly tailored to this group, and their ability, lay ignored on the large screen behind me teacher. She flickered again. A pair of scissors flew through her, the point striking the screen hard. Cracks spidered out from the point of impact. The teacher flickered more strongly. It took seconds for the teacher to assess the room as too dangerous for the lesson to continue. It was also plain that no human being was en route to lend support. Teach30798 was authorised to remove priveleges to leverage better behaviour. She shut down the wifi access in the room to this end, and also to shut down the attempts of two of the students to livestream the carnage. Both of them scowled, closed down the apps they were using, and opened the cameras instead. Triumphant smirks were short-lived. "You know the expectation around personal devices," she said. "They are not permitted. Please power them off, and put them away." The children frowned again, the screens in front of them scrambled and unuseable. "Have you broke my phone," sputtered Eliza, anger fizzing off her. "My mum will be fuming-" "Your device is unharmed. You may not use it," reiterated 30798. "You may not use recording devices. This is a safeguarding concern." "I'm going to call her," announced Eliza with glee. "Impossible. Your device is still disabled." "Then," Eliza's eyes flashed and her smile was stony cold, "I'll call her the second I get out of this dump." "Unnecessary. The behaviour has already triggered a call home." Eliza slid her phone back into her pocket. Spencer still held his in his hand. His eyes were narrowed. He looked at 30798, but he addressed Eliza. "If that thing can scramble our phones," he said, speaking slowly and letting the thought spool out for the thirty-five unhappy children to hear, "Then we must be able to scramble it. There must be something in this room that can do it. Or we must be able to unplug it." A cheer rumbled round the room and built to a chant. "Your behaviour has triggered the loss of privelege #13," the teacher said. The children had no idea what privelege #13 was. They only knew of twelve; #4 was access to school technology, and #6 was participation in Non Uniform Days. A few laughed. "I think Miss is glitching," Spencer jeered. Others clamoured with questions, but these petered out moments later. Some started gasping, and Eliza tumbled sideways and steadied herself on a nearby desk. "Privelege #13 is oxygen," said 30798 with a translucent smile.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
The Leonardo Paradox
The next morning found Sarah in borrowed clothes, bent over Leonardo's workbench as dawn light filtered through the workshop's high windows. She had spent the night studying the manuscript, comparing its contents to Leonardo's current notes while he worked on what he would only call "the device."
By Shane D. Spear2 years ago in Fiction
The Leonardo Paradox
The man who stood before Sarah couldn't have been more than forty, with keen eyes and a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a simple linen shirt stained with paint and charcoal, and his fingers were spotted with ink. But it was his smile that caught her attention – knowing, yet kind as if he were welcoming back an old friend rather than meeting a stranger from the future.
By Shane D. Spear2 years ago in Fiction
