Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Futurism.
The Barrens
Why here? Chrys wondered as she expertly set the flitcar down beside a ruined building, probably a warehouse at one time. So far from the New City that she could barely see the lighted domes of the corphives from the side window of her car. This was so far out into the Barrens that it might once have been at the edge of the legendary “burbs.”
Reynolds JonesPublished 3 years ago in FuturismOne Last Chance
PROLOUGE SATURDAY: 2:13 A.M. Year: 3407 "Mommy! Wake up!" Cherry was being dragged away by a guard with the government's seal on his jacket. His shiny gold name-tag read: Sergeant Atwood. she was screaming and crying, trying to get back to her mother. The frustrated guard picked her up, then threw her over his shoulder. Cherry kicked Atwood, hard. Distracted by the sudden pain in his groin, he quickly let the little girl go.
Anijah HallPublished 3 years ago in FuturismAnnie
Dana is on the Suicide Squad. The position is relatively new, their uniforms still an untarnished crimson. Odessa had no need of one until metal ate the skies and lights stained the night a permanent faded teal. They serve mostly the old and tired or the young and listless. The ones who have tugged at the rails of their elaborate playpen without success. Dana has never wailed for escape, but she knows the walls are there. She knows they are a threat and not a sanctuary, a fact that should send her screaming. But she is programmed to do otherwise. So she does not.
Claire CaseyPublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Water behind the Rock
In the stark, lifeless field of cracked rock and red-orange earth, two figures stood in the shadow of a large rock formation. From a distance, it appeared they had taken refuge from the sun’s plague of heat. But the way they stood was unnatural; lifeless like the desert all around them. For several moments their bodies did not move at all, their attention, transfixed on the ground before them.
Planned Abandon
She was on the island when it began. The lights flickered above the small table. They were just six miles from the mainland, but it might as well have been a thousand. The ocean had turned against them, so very suddenly it seemed, though there were a great many who had been predicting such an event. They’d spoken as often and loudly as they could over the years - about the acidification of the oceans, rising water temperatures, and the melting of the glaciers and icebergs. She hadn’t understood it all, or maybe hadn’t paid enough attention, but she should have, she knew now.
The Last Rain
“I can't remember the last time it rained. Was I thirteen? Fifteen? It was a long time ago anyway. No one knows exactly when it was because it just kind of happened. We were in a bad drought when some people realised it hadn't actually rained in years. Most of those people are probably dead now, so I guess it doesn't matter anyway.”
HIGHRISE SKYLINE
The traveler's battered motor struggles to carry his rusted boat over the outskirts of what used to be Fort Lauderdale, a concrete swamp abandoned by the corporate conglomerate that governed it after pushing the federal government out of the southeastern states, the US losing around half their now perpetually contested land in identical fashion. The rest of south and central Florida generally suffered a similar fate as the Atlantic Ocean continued to devour the state, driving away corporate interest. Still, first counts for something, capable of withstanding the cloud of toxic spores engulfing the dilapidated ruins, mutated alligators densely populate nearly every block. The traveler locks his gaze on 4 solar-powered air boats buzzing north into the decrepit city, each carrying a duo of Riptide reclamation officers, every one of them equipped appropriately, breathable Nanokevlar armor leading up to a lightweight, corporate-grade alloy filtration helmet, the dome outfitted with a heads up display detailing vitals and environmental info, everything marked with their signature tsunami logo. The traveler’s helmet, however was nearly opaque from condensation. He’ll be lucky to make it through without heat stroke. Functional A/C is typically standard in even the cheapest filtration units, popular after 2064 saw the climate’s true point of no return. Unfortunately, the edentate merchant in Orlando failed to supply or mention this basic component before charging full price and vanishing promptly.
Chris ConwayPublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Dream Cradle
Mitta’s Dream Cradle inspired more engagement and artistic-cultural consequences than expected. After receiving the Sky Heron Grant for Integrative Arts (mostly a package of studio time, craft supplies, and food credit at the neighborhood cupboard), they were planning for a familiar trajectory. Generate a decent enough artist statement about liminality, dream healing and proto-language to entice a few people to risk the trip to the gallery. The installation would be mildly exciting, beautiful even, but also confusing and ultimately forgotten by the time people returned to the regular survival rhythm of their lives.
Larissa KaulPublished 3 years ago in FuturismSARA
Years had passed since the latest of human technology and innovation landed on this far and distant rock. SARA, the Sentient and Autonomous Roving Automaton, was on an exploratory mission. As Earth’s first fully artificially intelligent being, it was her honor to be given the task of unraveling the mysteries of Mars.
J. J. TruittPublished 3 years ago in FuturismMy Love Lost
As I Iooked out towards the horizon on that cool Autumn evening, I reached up and gently ran my fingers over the surface of my heart shaped locket. Even though the locket was not
Elizabeth NPublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Retrievers
I feel the rush surging over me as I run. A sort of static energy from the crown of my head down to my legs. I was getting away…
Kate SimmondsPublished 3 years ago in FuturismEarth Aggregate
An Earth Aggregate™ rocket, emblazoned with the multicolor company logo, approached from the troposphere. It clashed with the surrounding decay like a rogue billboard clattering through a dust storm; a sort of hellfire spat out from the jet boosters as it neared a debris ridden landing pad. This space port was technically abandoned, but corporations often used derelict facilities for their own purposes. An eleven foot high electric fence surrounded the perimeter, and beyond that was a city submerged in entropic fallout. Buildings slumped over, their walls eaten by decades of harsh winds, holey like Swiss cheese from erosion.
Austin BrownPublished 3 years ago in Futurism