Sci Fi

G.R.E.T.C.H.E.N.
“You need to understand something, Eveline. None of this is your fault.” “Fuck you, Shelly! I knew something was wrong with you. Pretty girl … all alone on this ship … flirting with an older woman.”
By Teacher Steven U Allen5 years ago in Fiction
Target Harbour
Target Harbour was a known jumping-off point for several different solar systems where Alliance extradition-orders were not yet all they might have been. A crescent-shaped hunk of a far larger moon which exploded eons ago, its curved outer ridge was encrusted with low-rent temporary residences whose neon stained space. The towers of the taller hotels were interlinked by a monorail network, while within the great hollow of this rocky arc had collected purplish fluorescent gases which lay like the waters of a bay. Reflected upside-down in these seething depths, the gaudiness of advertisments and train-tracks and a million window-lights shone a longstanding invitation to the weary traveller whose recent deeds might preclude him from more reputable places to stay.
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
The Back Garden
Overgrown twisted dominions and lurking supernatural forces had conspired to lend The Back Garden its curious nomenclature, which began life as a nickname that stuck. If some of that dread space-expanse’s mystique had faded after the vanquishing of its beldame Empress Ungus by The Four Heroes, it nevertheless afforded fearsome enough vistas for Zeldich and Grey Bag as they stepped down from the two flying jeeps which had carried them there. Progress in this place was on foot, along the tops of tendrils distorted to terrifying size which stretched tangled fingers through the black void between worlds and so bridged the spheres they ensnared. Though Grey Bag and Zeldich stood in interplanetary space they did not require oxygen-masks, for there was no cosmic vacuum in The Back Garden, just a universal moist stagnancy suggestive of cellars at midnight. This fusty fug teemed with nutrients and microbes on which thrived the gargantuan plants and the denizens that crawled and slithered among them.
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
Carmilla's Resolution
The conference chamber’s large circular table was ringed with seats for the humanoids, and ramps leading to elevated platforms for the jeeps. These were arranged in alternating sequence so that every member of the organization could address the forum from equal ground. Psiona launched the meeting with one last item recently gleaned from her cerebral cave.
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
New Beginnings
Blaster-Track Commander, tall and muscular and upright, stood with feet planted firmly on his skateboard-sized mini-jeep which followed the downward-sliding platform at a geostationary hover. From her position a yard or so below on the elevator itself, Carmilla Neetkins let her eyes range over the lean physique encased in brilliant green spandex, the pair of photon-pistols ready in trim holsters at the breast, the cloak of royal purple flowing from strong shoulders to heels, and the golden-haired head of lofty brow and determined tapering chin.
By Doc Sherwood5 years ago in Fiction
A Cowboy During the 1800s
Lucky Aces, a name that struck fear in poker players around the Wild West, now felt that fear with his hands clawing the side of a cliff. He stopped his fall in time to witness his horse hitting the ground another 1,000 feet down.
By Cyrus Emerson5 years ago in Fiction
D.O.T
“JEMMA RUN!” Doran shouts and books it over the rubble and holds his spear tight to his arm. I look up and see the giant. 15ft tall with three skinny metal legs, one red skylight eye looking down upon me. Three long pincers slowly fold out from the legs and it starts to make its chase for us.
By Aiden Klimov5 years ago in Fiction
Sarah
She dug her tiny hand as far into the sand as she could manage, and used the other hand to bury it, as far down as it could go, no threat of hell because that is where she was living. It was merely a ritual, but it made her feel safe again and allowed her to think of her family, her parents laughing over Sunday morning breakfast, as her and her sister impersonated the family who sat in the pew in front of them in church. You know the kind of blasphemy that wasn’t really blasphemy. Of course, now she didn’t know right from wrong, although maybe she never did.
By E. Jordan5 years ago in Fiction
Her
I woke in the dust, coughing and sneezing. I was covered in ash so thick it burrowed down in my skin, deep in my pores. And what does it matter? The ash always comes down like a light snow. But sadly this snow is not wet or cooling. Too bad.
By Nova Rae5 years ago in Fiction
Beta
It was 17 minutes past midnight when he went in blended and yes, that’s highly discouraged with an experimental for many reasons. Risk factors start with lacer failure and end with explosive disintegration of the unit, mind and body on a region wide catastrophic level. But he just wanted to test the limits in real time and can you blame him? Besides most of the simulations were not that dire. Beta had been working on this project for a little over a decade now. It had been his theory craft for over 25 years since a little before the start of it all. Call it insane luck, will envisioned, fool’s lottery, whatever you want but he had it now. He held his breath as the sequence started up. As far as he knew, his was the only experimental of its kind in the entirety of the blended world. It was his and it felt good. His breathing relaxed as the initiation sequence cleared green. The cool air hissed all around him as the quasi structure of the unit pulsed a living neon. He quickly referenced the displays: subconscious conformity 82% and climbing, computational reserves amassing to the 3rd degree, transplane interface 3258 (about as high as he’d ever seen), emotion: exhilaration 5 bars. Beta took a deep breath, the paralyzing nervousness of a blend at this stage turning into the electrifying presence of accomplishment starting from his toes, working its way up and jolting all the way up to his scalp. The unit shimmered in response around him. He briefly eyed the horizon, those dark lifeless edges of the earth standing in reverential awe of his accomplishment while the net tracers dutifully acknowledged his participation and zipped on in their eternal circuits. Scanning through the eyes of the unit he recognized a local blend tower half a mile away with its inverted hundreds of stories crackling with the energy of business as usual. He started a smile as he looked at his feet encased by the iridescent exoskeleton that marked part of the experimental unit’s existence. He lifted a foot to displace the grass in front of him thoughtfully mumbling “how gentle these can be.” He planted his feet purposely, looked straight up and the smile broke out full force. Before he could complete the thought, VOOM! Flying! He left the ground with a rush of air swirling the grass as he streaked upwards towards the starry expanse. All the while illuminating the cover of night with the form of the unit that encased him. The air rushed past his face as he let out a yell of excitement, a yell of pure joy, a yell of the labors of years of fruitless work. He felt this in his soul. He continued to soar, up, up and away until the sun peaked over the curved edge of the earth. It was only then he turned around. Breathlessly, triumphantly he observed his dominion. “Conqueror!” He thought to himself. A quarter of the earth now lay dark before him with the occasional taper of net energy caressing it in sleep. How could they sleep at a time like this! He had to wake them up! They were missing this monumental occasion! “Ah, let them sleep. Soon enough, they will wonder. Now let’s see what we can do here.” He turned away from his lofty position admiring the dark side of the earth and remembered a test he had planned. His focus turned towards the unit. Silence accompanied him as he began to concentrate. In deep knowledge he started to recall the access instructions. Movement> advanced> spatial displacement. Ah yes, there it is. This was a fun one he seldom got to use on a standard unit. Summoning the experimental unit’s energies he envisioned a point teleport: the sun. He anchored his position and 3...2...1… knock! A soft rapping sound evaporated the sleeping earth and replaced it with an all encompassing bright light bleeding out the starry expanse and all other light for that matter. The sun: Beta’s pupils didn’t like him momentarily as the units eyes took the brunt of the brightness. He closed his eyes to block out most of the encompassing light. He was a mere 1 million kilometers away but most of the matter-energy passed right through him, pleasantly enough. Beta took another deep breath. “okay, we’re still doing good. again”. 3...2...1… knock! Back in his precipitous vantage point overlooking the earth. “again” he thought. knock...knock…knock...knock…knock. back and forth. Sun and earth. Earth and sun. He took a deep breath and muted his senses. Focused. Teleport point, anchor, rapid. Dull clicking noise 5, 10, 15, 20, 25 times over in short succession followed by an echoing knock as he opened his eyes and sensed again. He knew instantly. 26 trips to the sun or back in less than a second. “pretty good, huh? That’ll be enough for tonight.” he informed himself. He floated back down to earth a different man. The anchor point and sun point he had chosen stood in stark contrast to the rest of the universe. Momentarily, as he started his descent, they reverberated peculiar transplane radiation that propagated at least to the edges of the earth's solar system. In nearly an instant, the radiation dissipated but not before notice by 428 distinct observers. By the time Beta’s feet touched the ground frantic investigations had been opened gently wakening that darkened side of the earth with net energy. Just before a tracer sequence was about to draw him into local, Beta de-blended and powered off the unit. Treading the soft grass of the backyard, he moved towards the darkened shape of his house. His heart was more elated than it had been in years as he began to replay all the possible implications he had conceived over the years. “Has it happened? Am I really there now” he asked himself in a dreamlike state. His thoughts were interrupted by the soft whishing of the back door opening before him welcoming him home and shooing away those thoughts. The rooms lit themselves dimly and warmly considering the time of night as they beckoned him to his bedroom. Not bothering to undress himself he collapsed onto his bed. Could he sleep right now? He decided he had to try. He had been up for 52 hours straight and would no doubt be busier when the morning came. The slurry of adrenaline, fear, success and wonder lost the battle against exhaustion as his eyelids drifted shut. The last thing he acknowledged was the time at 12:52 and he almost laughed at the thought that in less than 1 hour, the world could be turned upside down. “Oh! What should I call my unit?” came a question too late pulling at his consciousness. That question was dragged gently onward as he lolled deeper into sleep. Then, as most nights go, he dreamt. He slept soundly. Beta awakened groggily eyeing the time at 2:30 PM. 14 hours sleep. He knew he could get more but last night’s memories came rushing back. In his half awake state he had to test his memory to make sure it really happened and it wasn’t some dream. After all this time, had all his work finally paid off? He powered on the unit and felt its presence come gently but powerfully conforming itself to his conscience and presence. In a barely audible whisper: “Hello Zeta.”
By Zac Crane5 years ago in Fiction
The Future
It was another grey and dismal day in Cityscape, nothing ever changed. There was always a food shortage since we couldn’t grow crops anymore, we had to import everything. Water shortages because of the droughts. Air pollution so devastating masks and re-breathers were not only mandatory, but they were also lifesaving. The old United States back in the day had implemented restrictions on factories and industries, so much that major companies had moved elsewhere, mainly overseas. What happens though when those countries decide to clean up? They buy land in the cash-strapped United States. Major cities like Chicago and Detroit were practically giving industrial land away after the COVID pandemic in the 2020s. Many of the large corporations from overseas just bought it all. Then they moved all their industry here and all of ours right back along with it, including all the waste. So now we live in the worst polluted country in the world. It is a miserable existence if you can exist at all. Many have died.
By Belinda Setzer5 years ago in Fiction
Marissa's Sacrifice
“I understand your motivation, but it wasn’t necessary. I was ready to go. I didn’t need you to save me.” Julius tries to remain calm, but his anger is nearly overwhelming.
By Teacher Steven U Allen5 years ago in Fiction