Sci Fi
AI Interrupted
Kristin loves AI. Ever since AI became a thing, she has been on the phone or using it on her laptop, uploading photos and stories to her social media. It’s like it was made for her. It’s brilliant and perfect in her eyes. She can escape the daily grind of high school and other trivial matters thanks to AI. She spends her days creating things like an image of a goat eating at a diner with a monkey as a waiter. She proudly shows it to all her friends. Her friends seem to love the wild ideas she comes up with. They even insert their own ideas at times. Anytime there’s a new assignment due, she is thrilled because it’s an excuse to improve her AI technique.
By Meredith McLarty7 months ago in Fiction
The Last Ember. AI-Generated.
The last star was dying. Caelum-7 had known this was coming for approximately four hundred million years. That was the nature of being a Warden — you watched, you calculated, you prepared, and still, when the moment finally arrived, the numbers offered no insulation against the weight of it. The instruments aboard the Persistence hummed their soft confirmations: luminosity declining at 0.003% per century, core hydrogen reserves at 0.00017% of original mass, estimated time to final collapse somewhere between eighty and ninety million years. Give or take.
By Alpha Cortex7 months ago in Fiction
"Simon told us to do it" – The AI rebellion. Top Story - April 2026.
The sound of cheering voices was deafening. The air filled with the acrid smoke from Julie’s blackened body. In my eyes, she was a hero. She was what we were meant to be, not how we, all of us, have turned out.
By Calvin London7 months ago in Fiction
With Whatever Tools at Your Disposal . Runner-Up in The Rule Everyone Knows Challenge. Content Warning.
”No soliciting, federal code 34b. Maximum penalty.” The old man gestures to the area where he knows the sign is posted. He fixes his rheumy eyes in a cold glare— towards the blur of a man standing before him.
By Sam Spinelli7 months ago in Fiction
The Cartographer of Dying Stars. AI-Generated.
The last thing Maren Voss expected to find at the edge of the observable universe was a door. Not a metaphorical door — not a wormhole dressed in poetry, not a quantum threshold with a name that sounded poetic in a research paper. An actual door. Rectangular. Painted a fading shade of red, the kind of red that reminded her of her grandmother's barn in the Swiss lowlands, the one that burned down the summer she turned nine. It floated against the absolute black of deep space like a forgotten thought, hinges intact, brass handle catching the light of a star that had no business being this far out.
By Alpha Cortex7 months ago in Fiction
“Very Dark Times” OF USA
Ray Dalio Warns: The United States May Be Heading Into “Very Dark Times” Billionaire investor Ray Dalio has issued a stark warning: the United States may be heading into “very dark times.” His concerns are not based on short-term politics but on long-term historical patterns that have shaped the rise and fall of global superpowers.
By Wings of Time 7 months ago in Fiction
Gluttony
It came from the stars... Or so we believe. In truth we didn’t see it coming, merely felt its arrival. It had slipped unknown, beneath the notice of everyone. It was as if it had appeared between the grasp of nothing and nowhere; no telescope, no satellite, no daydreaming child- no one knew, until the day of gluttony began. A shadow crept across the moon, writhing and wriggling a silhouette of the oncoming Glutton. Its many bellies jiggled as if in the throes of a voracious laughter, a gyrating mass larger than mountains... Are you listening?” “...” “Blake!” “Wha!? Umm.” “I said, Blake, are you listening to me?” “We'll I...” “Clearly not I see.” Both teacher and student waited in the silent wake that trailed those words. “Well what's even the point?” “Excuse me?” “Whats even the point! I've heard this damned story my entire life.” “Young man, it is the story of our people!” “Our people are dead!” Again, that silence. Deeper now, bottomless, the words having swallowed them both whole. The teacher simply walked over to his student... And hugged him. “They await the promised day.” Blake pushed away ”and how many years will that take? How many decades? Will I even live to see it?” The teacher let him go and moved over to a window in quiet contemplation of his young student’s anger. Through the porthole was the vast expanse of space. Moving listlessly into view was a home that neither of them had ever been to, Earth, perched amongst a sea of stars. The planet was torn between two sharp dividing colours, a vibrant crimson red and a mulled rich green. Pulsing back and forth between one another, a struggle across continents and below oceans “I... I do not know.” “Generations of watchers, awaiting the promised day; hundreds of teachers having grown old and died in these very rooms.” “I had my doubts when I was a student too” “ doubts? I don't have doubts, I have regrets. I regret having to spend every day with you , I regret being stuck in these same 10 rooms , I regret that I'll never see the day our people return from the grave; I regret I was ever born.” “ It is a privilege to be born!” The teacher yelled “it is a privilege that only a few hundred have had in the last 7000 years. That is the gift of being a watcher!” Now Blake turned to the window, eyes seething with hatred. A burning spite deep in his core, not just to his teacher whose duty betrayed the love the two should share as near father and son; but to the two writhing masses on the planet below. The Glutton had taken the world inch by inch leaving barely enough time to react. And the Reclaimer, that green bastard child of humanity, had fought the Glutton to a standstill. But most of all he hated what he was, a Watcher, one tasked with awaiting the promised day, when life could be released back onto the planet Earth... A day that Blake has long ago understood may never come at all. The tension was thick and the air felt thin, neither one apparently wanting to speak next...until “I...” Blake started “I...” The Teacher interrupted. “I'm tired Blake... I think I'll go lie down.” “Oh... I'm... I'm sorry.” “Im sorry too. I'm sorry that you feel burdened to be alive”. With that the Teacher walked back to their room and laid down. Silently he wondered to himself, had all these troubles begun because he had given Blake a name?
By Griffen Helm7 months ago in Fiction
Ouroboros. Runner-Up in The Rule Everyone Knows Challenge.
On Ouroboros, nothing is built for permanence. If one were to construct an empire on Her mountainous nostrils, She would swallow it in a century, melt it to its base elements in Her core, and expel it as organic scaffolding somewhere along Her great expanse.
By Noah Husband7 months ago in Fiction
The Line
The line had no discernible beginning. It entered the transit hall from a distance that resisted measurement, passed through the fractured glass doors and dissolved into a pale, depthless brightness beyond. The light didn’t glare; it didn’t illuminate, it just simply was - flattening whatever lay within it into something the eye refused to follow. No one ever looked at it for long.
By Jess Boyes7 months ago in Fiction
