science fiction
The bridge between imagination and technological advancement, where the dreamer’s vision predicts change, and foreshadows a futuristic reality. Science fiction has the ability to become “science reality”.
Enter the Laag
Tsiñu walked down the dark cement hallway. He was the last of the recruits to pass through intake, his head shaved bald, his naked body hosed down. The sting of sterilization powder still clung to his skin underneath the gray jumpsuit. That was the last step—he was now ready for the Laag.
David SchmidtPublished 3 years ago in FuturismSuneater
I was awakened by the sound of hissing, but I could barely hear it over the ringing in my head. With some difficulty, I managed to convince my eyes to open. There was a person in front of me, distorted and twisted. The man’s skin was shades of blue, purple and white. There were ice droplets attached to his eyelashes, and ice encrusted his cheeks and chest hair. The fear the image shot through my veins was quickly overtaken by a sharp pain in my chest.
Jayson KnappPublished 3 years ago in FuturismLOST AND FOUND
Lorraine’s father drank Earl Grey tea because Captain Picard drank it on Star Trek. Now, she drinks it because it reminds her of him, the man who, years ago, had pulled her from a burning building with bare hands- eyes wild and swimming, and that inexplicable strength of terror that seemed to surprise both of them. He was gone now, her father. Trampled to death under a thousand fleeing feet, just squashed denim, an unburied streak and shattered eyeglasses.
Tim OakleyPublished 3 years ago in FuturismNew Hope
From Mal’s Diary June 3, 3150
Jaelan McCoudPublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Incident
You would think by now I would be used to the routine. The stealth like maneuvers to conceal ourselves, timed down nearly to the second. The painfully slow navigations we took to find the safe and hidden spots to rest, knowing fully well that we would only have a short time to allow our eyes to remain closed. The constant need for movement was evident, as if we were the actual blood within our own veins, pumping endlessly to keep the very core of our ourselves going.
Bridget BlackPublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Neon Pit
The sun was casting shadows of the decaying buildings out onto the warm water front. The sound of crickets and frogs already singing their melody in the tall, dancing grass as the city slept silently. Each sky scraper was covered with moss and their windows either broken or were gone. Some had fallen over, some slumped against one another, or some were just standing skeletons of aged steel or thinning wood. There was a gentle whistle when the breeze passed through hollowed cars and cooed over street signs. The streets had flourished into a tall, waving grassy field. It turned from bright, healthy green to near black the sun hid behind the buildings. The car’s silhouettes stretched down the streets till they swallowed the entire street. Darkness had now awoken now that night has arrived. A street lights flickered to life, glowing florescent purple down over a bus stop. The next block, the next street light flickering on, being a dull green. The next light was crimson red. As the next light flickered on to be neon blue, the blaring noise of a storm siren rose obnoxiously louder. The noise echoed through the streets, closer; it vibrated broken glass and trembled water in the streets. The eerie, ear bleeding noise had awoken the city.
Marshell HarrisPublished 3 years ago in FuturismA dune buggy of memories
A dune buggy travels through the streets filled with debris. Debris from cars that have not made it to their destination. In those cars charred remains of people who failed to get there. Ash filled the air all you can see is gray for miles. And that runs into a gray horizon. The vehicle does its job with its huge puncture free tires rolling over the remains of what seemed to be a neighborhood with pets and families. It is a mere shell of what it once was…alive. The man driving is unrecognizable in a gas mask to protect him from the toxic air. Military gear from head to toe as his boots hits the accelerator to get the buggy over multiple cars on this road of decay. As he is slowed down you see red eyes peer through the cloud of ash. Shadows seem to be gaining on the buggy. The man sees their approach as red eyes appear to have gained on him to his right sprinting atop of the houses next to him. He reaches to his passenger seat and pulls out a multiple barreled weapon with a revolving chamber. The green light from his weapon giving the user the aim he needs to make his shot. He pulls the trigger. The back fire makes him swerve as his target disappears behind an explosion. The growling is still coming as the red eyed creatures are still in the rearview. He knows that he has to get these red eyed creatures off his tail as he is coming to his destination. As his GPS alerts him by showing a blink hologram of location as it is to his final spot. He must get rid of them now!
Peter G HornbucklePublished 3 years ago in FuturismAlive Inside
Something caught in my upper gears and jammed. It made a sickening mechanical grinding noise inside my head. Then it whirred back and forth, trying first to back up and then to go forward over and over again without success. Reaching up to the sides of my neck, I switched the two metal brackets to the unlock position and rotated my head to remove it from my body. It twisted loose like a jar lid and came off in my hands with ease.
TheChrissyMaePublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Uninhabitable Zone
A superheated humid airstream slipped under the silent sails of the white electric aircraft encapsulating Urduja, traveling low over lands once familiar to some once upon a time, but now alien to most life. Long ago, the rainforest floors wilted, burned, and eroded, leaving behind a vast horizon of charred forest and expansive detritus, with even invasive hardy savannah grasses stunted and browned, struggling to cope. Grayscale were the skies, with the vaguest hint of blue. On crisp white letters somewhere over her retina HUD displayed 41 degrees Celsius and 43% humidity. Urduja knew that south of her destination in Bogota, once existed a vast rainforest stretching innumerable horizons, a cornucopia of life, teeming with a density of sounds and smells, of light particles shimmering off canopies and flowers.
Beau GarlandPublished 3 years ago in FuturismWinged Tomorrow
Entry Number 001 I haven't really tried one of these out for myself. I think my great grandparents called it Journaling. I'm board and this is one of the one things I did learn while in Basic knowledge videos.
Darian JacksonPublished 3 years ago in FuturismLong Drive
Perfect. Perfect. It was all perfect. She drummed her fingers in flawless rhythm against the cracked, sun-blistered skin of the steering wheel. The car she had chosen smelled like a dog left outside and cheap vacuums sucking up cigarette ash from an old shitty carpet. It wasn’t hers. She didn’t need a car, before.
Hayley DaggersPublished 3 years ago in FuturismBovine Crisis
Trista Langley watched as the last of the bubbles swirled down the bathtub drain. Luckily, they continued to disappear without hesitation, perhaps proof that this time at least, the hair clippings from her newly shaven legs hadn’t been as thick as usual.
Rhoda Tripp WritesPublished 3 years ago in Futurism