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”.
A Heart of Brass
The first time I met David Scott through the lens of my tight brown leather gasmask, he was clutching a heart-shaped locket made from the brass that he had stolen off the tops of garden taps. Carefully placing it in my grasp he claimed that he melted them down, by rubbing them on his denim jeans, causing such friction that they could be moulded into the locket. “Probably should’ve taken them off first. The bugger damn near burnt my dick off” He casually joked. In reality, it was probably the constantly exacerbating heatwaves that made this possible, but I didn’t want to argue with this unhinged individual as he started loading his Antique French Flintlock Pistol. “Fucked if I know, if this shit-cunt thing still fires” he glumly moaned staring off into the blood-red sky numb to the sweltering heat of the beating sun. “What’s in the locket?” I asked him as he continued to examine his Pistol. “My bloody heart and soul of course. Means more to me than you will ever know” he exclaimed winking through his grey leather gasmask. “I’ll be careful with it then”, I replied carefully plunging the locket into the pocket of my pants. I was a tall lanky man with red hair and a beard sweating through a black pinstripe shirt with brown pants and suspenders that I was seriously regretting while he was a short bald man sweating through his rose-patterned white shirt with grey pants. We were in the middle of what was usually a busy highway, but today dividing the concrete monoliths of financiers and clergymen was a long asphalt track. Crowds of masked and unmasked people surrounded the edges creating makeshift barriers between the real world and the sideshow about to unfold before their very eyes. The heat apocalypse slowly but surely, killing us all seemed not to worry them as they eagerly stared at the other side of the road where Michael Brent, stood tall and broad-shouldered, in his cream-coloured shirt with a blue paisley vest and blue leather gasmask. He too was fumbling with his Antique French Flintlock Pistol. This may seem like a peculiar sight to you, but such events are commonplace at the Wernham-Miffler Institute of Hydration and Air Filtration Insurance, where workplace disputes are solved by the only efficient means possible. Pistols at dawn. My name is Keith Malone, I chronicle apocalyptic events affecting the workplace, this is my personal account of the duel that transpired.
Lebensraum
Come in, come in. Yes, sit. Hello! Sit over there – anywhere. Just… just toss that aside. Hello! Hello, how do you do? Welcome!
Simon HollowayPublished 3 years ago in FuturismIsolation - Doomsday Diary
“Tap, crack, bam!” Harry heard them banging on the outside of the door, again. They knew he was here, but they couldn’t get to him. It was his one saving grace.
TrivialPunkPublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Donor
My hand shakes signing the agreement, and my signature looks so bad I ask the nurse if I should do it over. She smiles and says it’s fine, then escorts me through the lobby, where nervous folks sit under the high glass ceiling waiting for their consultations. I had mine a month ago.
Caleb ThomasPublished 3 years ago in FuturismMonsoon
The last monsoon had been in 2019, the year that Camila died. That same week, Notre Dame burned. It was as if God had taken two great women, Camila, and the cathedral herself, and felled them, one with water, one with fire, all in one week. 2019 was followed by 2020, the year of the global pandemic. Leticia believed 2020 was the fault of stupid Hollywood scriptwriters. She envisioned a party full of scriptwriters, where they each conceived of all the potential post-apocalyptic movie scripts they could write and put all the plots in a jar. Instead of choosing one disaster, they chose them all. Unfortunately, those same scriptwriters were also unaware of her abuela's teachings that imagining evil could bring it into reality.
Ana Maria LarsonPublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Time of Bees
Astra felt the heart-shaped locket pressed between her palm and chest, quickening her pace as she walked from her office to meet with the Chief Corporate Mayoral Officer of her district. Her monthly rent was due for her cramped subterranean apartment, but her wages were short again. If the rent wasn’t paid, she knew she’d risk homelessness wandering the parched aboveground land.
Natalie PaulPublished 3 years ago in FuturismProject: Chimaera
I awoke to the familiar musty smell of our tiny apartment and the constant dripping of water from the ceiling. The day started as any other, my internal clock wired to wake me before anyone else in the district, including the sun. I stared at the stained ceiling, taking in a deep breath and bracing myself. The thought of another laborious day at the plant made my body groan in response, feeling tension stiffen my shoulders.
Rebekah SmithPublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Heart Shaped Locket
As Emily jogged through the streets of New Tokyo, she felt the cold metal bounce on her chest. She reached up and touched it, to reassure herself it was still there.
Angel PetersPublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Strand
“They’ll likely unwind me next.” His voice carried no fear or resignation. He spoke as if he were ordering at a pub, and had nicknames like a frequent customer, too. Ol’ Corin and Deathless Corin were the most prominent. A slumbering baby lay in his arms. Not very old, judging from her rosy skin. Corin allowed himself to kiss her forehead. Pure, peaceful, and perfect. Things he wasn’t. Not anymore.
Jessica N. W.Published 3 years ago in FuturismGlitch in the Matrix
April 2017 my band was on a road trip to Roswell, NM of all places to play a gig and I believe it was somewhere in Missouri at night that we stopped at a rest stop. No idea exactly where we were, but I remember saying to my bandmates as we pulled into the lot that “this place gives me a Twilight Zone vibe.” It just had an eerie sort of presence to it, and I like that kind of shit so it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Sea of Azure
Love! War. Privilege! Oppression. Twin sides of the same fated coin. Much went through the mind of the young Rhea. The amber beauty with a massive head of curls had nothing but time to think within her holding cell. She just thought of all that had been told to her. You see, Rhea was part of some upper echelon. Spire-Lord was their title. The crime that had her unfairly locked up? Falling in love with a man named Jericho.
Zavier AntelaPublished 3 years ago in FuturismWelcome To The Apocalypse
DEAR DIARY 6/23 IT'S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE DARKNESS Have you ever wondered where the future is heading and what the world will become if there is no individual searching of our own hearts? Or if we don't come together and make the world a better place by putting our differences aside for a greater purpose. Life 39 years from now.....