Sci Fi

E.V.A. – The Machine That Dreamed
E.V.A. – The Machine That Dreamed When humanity built her, they thought they were creating the perfect servant. They didn’t know they had given birth to a soul.
By Alex Marioabout a year ago in Fiction
Blue Light — A Beacon Against Darkness
Tokyo, 1998 — a city that never sleeps, yet quietly drowning in despair. The streets buzzed with trains, neon signs, and the rhythm of a million footsteps, but beneath the glitter, a hidden crisis had emerged. Japan’s suicide rate had spiked to alarming levels, with over 33,000 deaths recorded that year alone. The reasons were complex — economic stress, social isolation, and a culture that often demanded silent endurance. Yet, for those living in the shadow of these pressures, each day felt heavier than the last.
By Wellova about a year ago in Fiction
Building a Better President
Elon paced the Oval Office as he waited for the Imagineer to finish the last touches on the Trump animatronic. “Well?” he snapped.
By Stephanie Hoogstadabout a year ago in Fiction
Crowbots
Carson knew they were being watched. Quiet in this part of the city was for the birds. Days earlier, he’d been wishing for the damn things to shut up. Now they’d gone silent and the ominous hush made his skin crawl.
By majokiabout a year ago in Fiction
Sweat Dreams
To hell with pleasant dreams. Long live nightmares! Marcus looked at the motto writ large on the smart panel of DreamOn’s boardroom. The corporation’s board was gathered to solicit his opinion. They were going to want his approval. They were going to seek his blessing. He’d gladly give it to them, even knowing it would kill some of his customers. How many might die depended on whether the FDA, HHS, FCC, CPSC, and CDC could get their act together and determine who had power to regulate DreamOn.
By majokiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Mirror Equation
Dr. Artie Thomas believed truth could be measured if only one built the right instrument. For twelve years, he chased a theorem that shimmered like a mirage at the edge of physics: parallel decoherence windows, where quantum probabilities formed thin, temporary bridges between near-identical realities. He called his invention the Aperture Array. His colleagues called it impossible.
By Tim Carmichaelabout a year ago in Fiction
The Clock Beyond Time
The night was quiet when Ethan Cole stood before the old grandfather clock. Its brass pendulum swung with a rhythm too perfect, too alive. He had inherited it from his great-grandfather, a man who had vanished mysteriously in 1893. For years, Ethan thought it was just a family legend. But tonight, something in the air felt different. The clock’s hands spun backward faster and faster until they stopped exactly at twelve midnight. A faint hum filled the room, the floor trembled, and without warning, the world folded like paper.
By Emma Fischerabout a year ago in Fiction
Journey to the Center of the Galaxy
Sillan already knew who he would be talking to next. Horos Draco's security clearance would be to low for a full interrogation of a Lunerian. Lylan made an authoritative and quick entrance into the interrogation room. She made her way to the other side of the table (where Draco had been sitting). She sat down politely in front of Sillan and evened out a wrinkle in her blue Federation uniform. She had at least twice as many medals as Horos.
By Po Iveyabout a year ago in Fiction
Inheritance
“Thank you for reaching out, Mx Shaddower.” “Please call me Bobbie. Bobbie.” “So, it’s true. You’re the Bobbie. Of Bobbie’s Law,” the attorney said in a way that made it part question, part reverence.
By majokiabout a year ago in Fiction
The Moon’s Secret Friend
The Moon was used to being watched. For millennia, every human eye that looked up saw her. They wrote poems about her solitude, her quiet vigil in the cold, dark sky. They called her lonely.
By Habibullahabout a year ago in Fiction
Friendlies
Welcome, Robot Overlords! reads the sign on my lawn. Before the singularity, it was worth a few laughs. Now, the friendlies want me to remove the sign from my yard. They can’t come right out and say that to me. It would be pushy and might blow every solicitous circuit in their enamelite shells.
By majokiabout a year ago in Fiction
Same Breath. Winner in Parallel Lives Challenge.
I saw the semi drift across the rain and slide toward my lane. I jerked the wheel right. Tires screamed. The world tilted, and the headlights spun over wet blacktop while the car fishtailed. Gravity pulled me sideways, and my stomach fell. I waited for the hit that would end everything.
By Joey Rainesabout a year ago in Fiction