fact or fiction
Is it science fact or science fiction? Futurism presents both sides to determine the truth.
In raptures about raptors policing our streets
Let’s take a short trip into the future. The year is 2045 and the CIA-seeded Moreau-esque brainchild of tech billionaires Palmer Luckey, founder of Oculus and Anduril Industries, and Ben Lamm, founder of Colossal Biosciences, announces the next generation in dystopian community policing... Waraptor.
By Steve Harrisonabout 11 hours ago in Futurism
The Day Valentina Died. Honorable Mention in Scroll No More Challenge.
Callia's phone wasn't working. That was not surprising, because it never did. Carrie had found an old phone in a coffee shop, either discarded or lost and not worth replacing. The battery had died, and even after she used the free chargers in the library the screen had remained blank. But she found it a useful prop, especially when she was on dark streets or in questionable company. Loudly giving out her location to her (non-existent) big, strong son and insisting he come pick her up seemed effective as a temporary deterrent.
By Sonia Heidi Unruh13 days ago in Futurism
The Flash
I was looking for an alternator. Ever since the blasts, it had gotten hard to find simple car parts. The old Walmart down at Steelyard was a good place to find things like that, if they still existed. It was a bright, cold winter day. As I walked through the huge parking lot, I looked around me at the old buildings and stores. Some of them were half-upright ruins, and others were boarded up. Like in most places, a lazy plume of smoke rose from the fires that the Lost kept lit for warmth. Sometimes I would go and try to talk to the Lost, about why they didn't take the link. Waste of time, to be honest. I'd ask them what their lives were like, and why they didn't take the link, and they would babble about "love" and "truth" which is one of the reasons why I begrudgingly praised the Eye. The Eye proclaimed that the Lost weren't worth interacting with, that we should ignore them like a bump in the road. But if they were that unimportant, why not get rid of them? The Linked were often subjected to purges, when an incorrect thought wave occurred, so why were the Lost able to roam and loiter so freely? I approached the old Walmart, and joined the line to get in. You had to scan your link at a power station in order to enter stores then. The Lost weren't allowed to shop at stores anymore. We called it a "line" out of habit, but it was more like a throng, moving forward slowly with an irregular gait toward the power station checkpoint. The checkpoints had sensors positioned about seven feet high, so you had to raise your hand above your head to get it scanned. I waited patiently as the people in front of me raised their hand, black diamond tattoos visible, and chanted "I praise the Eye". The scanner would briefly flash a radioactive green, reflected by their tattoo, and they would walk forward. I was in a hurry. I edged around some of the slow walkers in front of me, raised my hand, mumbled something about the eye, and pushed through the crowd. Once inside the building, I walked past a heap of random machinery and rushed to the very back corner of the store. Organization was in short supply those days. I knew I would have to methodically walk each aisle to see if they had an alternator. I had once found an old 24V power plug that I needed in an aisle full of children's toys, so I didn't want to chance missing this. My car was simple and reliable, so finding this alternator was the difference between meeting my quotas and being a walker for the next year. Eventually, I reached the toy aisle, which was about in the middle of the store. I strolled down the stained tile floor, scanning up and down the shelves as I went. A bright red doll caught my eye, and I stopped and stared at it. It had big eyes on top of the head, like the old cartoons, a big orange nose, and soft red fur covering the whole body. I had an irresistable urge to pick it up. I reached out and grabbed it by the torso, and some sort of speaker inside of it made a loud childish voice. "Heehee! That tickles" I jumped, startled by the ancient craftsmanship.
By A. S. Lawrence13 days ago in Futurism
The Countdown
It is hard to know who we once were before they were here. They came into our lives shiny and new. They recognized us as worthy of their attention. We gave our passwords, pins, and fingerprints to them. We let them use our faces to identify us and to call us by name. They were not just intelligent devices; they were part of us. Our hands twitch when they are not held in them. The desire to turn them on would be too much to bear to keep them anywhere but nearby. Pockets being their safe place where hands can freely reach in, tap it, and allow the personal wallpaper to shine and the notifications to appear. For if we do not have notification alerts, then how are we to know what to do next and who needs us?
By Ashley Wrigley13 days ago in Futurism
Not Really
Alice stared down at the smartphone in her hand. The screen displayed the time as 11:59 AM. In just one minute, this device, along with every other smartphone across the globe, would go dark. Global announcements had warned of a catastrophic virus released by cybercriminals, targeting mobile operating systems worldwide. To prevent absolute system failure, authority networks found it necessary to initiate a total shutdown. IT agencies were now racing against the clock to fix the breach before the hardware became permanently corrupted and rendered entirely useless.
By The Pen Soul13 days ago in Futurism
Nobody Panic
The first clue that something was wrong was the screaming. Being the office receptionist, and therefore contractually obligated to leave her phone out of reach except on lunch breaks, Maia took a little longer to catch on to the latest calamity. The flood of people stampeding to find a spare charger was a bit of a hint that it was something to do with mobile phones. "How did all your phones die at once?"
By Natasja Rose13 days ago in Futurism
