Sci Fi

Free Speech
Words have become the enemy. Words, once the means by which we shared our thoughts— our experiences, ourselves— are now meaningless. Worse, they are weapons. The weapons that we fashioned ourselves, then handed over to our enemies.
By Karen Castillo5 years ago in Fiction
The Fourth Patriot
The man being held in the cell, for all the simplicity of his birth name, was known as three people. The first no longer existed because of the second, and the second took precedent, if need be, even in the presence of the most recent third. The state of being many people at once was an accepted one in the New Light Era, but all three were currently failing him.
By Nazli Sevinc5 years ago in Fiction
Old Dog
The giant chamber door lurched open with violent reluctance. First, the synchronized metallic KACHUNK-KACHUNK-KACHUNK of its three Duranium pillar bolts jarring from their housings in succession. Next, the hiss as pent up pressure races to escape through the widening gap around its edges. With a belabored push a thin band of blinding white light haloing the nine by nine foot tungsten behemoth's edges widens, eventually filling every visible inch of the disembark chamber.
By Oren Lomena5 years ago in Fiction
A New Perspective: A Dystopian Short Story
The Perspective droned mechanically over a sea of sprawling Dakota grasslands frosted by the remnants of the morning dew. Dotting the landscape were the pastels of wildflowers, moving synchronously with each soft gust of wind. The Perspective’s altitude remained unvarying and steady, along with its vector and velocity.
By Rob C5 years ago in Fiction
Sunrise
At night I dream of the Rescuers. The Rescuers come from the sky. My people say they will take us to new land, new life, away from the ordinary. To me, the Rescuers are like gods.
By Noelle Laurenson5 years ago in Fiction
The Bureau of Rescissions
Orderly Charlie Dollar rubbed his temples. The r-KIV implant’s probing of his hippocampus was intense at the best of times, but this last disjunction had been a real cluster frak, and he was quickly developing a throbbing headache as his memories were sorted and catalogued for the Judge Advocate’s Exterms. He dabbed at a smear of blood on his collar with a wet wipe. He knew precisely whose blood it was, though he didn’t know her name. Her pleading eyes still filled his brain, even without the r-KIV replaying their encounter in slow motion in his mind. Ident scans on her came back negative. No fingerprint, dental record, retinal pattern or facial recog existed for the woman. In thirty years as an Orderly, Dollar had never before encountered any person who didn’t exist. His hands shook from the frustration, the gall. Did a life even matter if it was unrecognized by the system? Dollar was the system’s answer to that question.
By Tad Cronn5 years ago in Fiction
Good Morning Americopia
“Good morning John, it is time to insert your Eucharist chip. You have 12 charges remaining” The plastic yet pleasing voice of Sophia rang out, rattling about like a pinball in John’s slumbering skull, equal parts seductive and authoritarian--just how John liked it. But of course they knew that.
By John Kelle5 years ago in Fiction
The Ego Death of Egoimane
It was the year 4000 in the land of Egoimane. The sun had not shined there as the murky, gray clouds covered the sky and dimmed the entire city. The city was a dark place where the weather always seemed as if it was awaiting a storm. Although the storm never came, it left everyone tired and in a monotonous routine. No birds were singing to greet the morning. All the livestock had died off and left them with the grim remains of what used to be. The people hardly ever knew the difference between night and day or seasons for the matter. It smelled of filth and radioactive goo throughout the city. In the center were a wasteland and an unearthly scientific laboratory that polluted the air of harsh chemicals and disposed of toxic waste. As Cindy 543 went to grab her jumpsuit to prepare to accept her assignment for the day, she had a nostalgic feeling overcome her. She had remembered a dream from the night before while she was awake. She saw colors that were beautiful and vibrant. It was a community with parents and their children existing in bliss. They were singing and holding hands with each other. It had to be another world that was far away from this one. Music was forbidden in the land of Egoimane by its government. The higher-ups claimed that music was an evil sound that took over your mind. Cindy had always been afraid to hear such a thing. So, when she heard it in her dream, she was confused because it made her smile and feel safe. She wondered if this happened before and if it would happen again. What could such an encounter mean? Cindy began to think harder about what she saw. Before she could finish analyzing what she had experienced the previous night, she heard a knock at her door. The voice yelled, "OPEN UP!" Cindy rushed to open her door and quickly realized that it was her friend David333. She seemed frightened by the knock, which was unlike her. He laughed but then quickly noticed that something was bothering Cindy.
By Lex Thee Goddess 5 years ago in Fiction
The Extension of Gold
"I've done a lot, but I really don't feel good about taking jewelry off of the dead, Leon. Besides, we don't even know if it's real gold."
By Gardy L Nicolas5 years ago in Fiction
Brittle Fingers
Son of man, do you believe in the soul? Do you believe in the disparity between right and wrong, heaven and hell, good and evil?
By Nikolas Poulos5 years ago in Fiction
The Great Undoing
Today is the day, the day that we have all been waiting for, for today is the day that we finally get to leave the only home we have ever known to see the world of our mother and father. This world has been unreachable, from us as mother and father sealed us away in this capsule until a time that they knew we would once again be safe in their world renewed.
By Timothy J Wolfe5 years ago in Fiction
Daughter
The two bodies appeared intact, which was the first thing that made Professor Sekh frown in thought. The drill had been grinding through solid granite, far below where there should have been an end to solid granite and a beginning to basalt. Then the drill had broken through into a much less dense layer of rock, and the sudden movement should have pulverised the two forms, not wrapped them like spaghetti around the workings of the drill head and shaft.
By Michele Holly5 years ago in Fiction