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”.
Scientific Data Storage.
Five-dimensional' glass discs can store data for up to 13.8 billion years Scientists from the University of Southampton in the UK have created a new data format that encodes information in tiny nanostructures in glass. A standard-sized disc can store around 360 terabytes of data, with an estimated lifespan of up to 13.8 billion years even at temperatures of 190°C. That's as old as the Universe, and more than three times the age of the Earth.
Einstoll
"Hello, you must be ambassador, Hylem Asher?" she asked with a stiff voice. "Yes, and I take it that you're Madam President, Fiona Grange."
Brooke PalmerPublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Seduction
The Collector arrives in the village of Akoub one morning and spends a few hours at the small Bureau office – not more than a cabinet, really – with the village records. The recordkeeper, an old man with a silver white beard and piercing blue eyes, hates this monthly ritual but must show him the revenue books regardless. They’re performing better than expected, the saffron crop harvested well in time before the khareef season, when the monsoon comes. The birth records are still unsatisfactory: three babies born in the last three months, none of them girls.
Case: 01.10.2055
I was like everybody else. Wake up at 7:00 am., shower, eat, coffee and out the door to work. We all pull up to the work building, some in nicer cars than others, but all with that same look of emptiness on our face. This is what connects us together, this feeling. This feeling like we want to go back to bed, or like we wish we weren't so lonely, or like we wish we were about to do something worthwhile with our lives instead of wasting 9-10 hours on manual labor.
M. McFaddenPublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Renegade Dream
I have always sought understanding of the magical nature of the universe. I recall as a child, looking up into the night sky wondering if this vast sparkling universe could in some way reflect the brain inside my head, the electric mind, the soul I sought to connect with behind my eyes.
Violette StarlinePublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Locket of Cronus
In the midst of time and within the smoky, fogged out atmosphere, Macy could not see, could not feel and also could not hear. The blast she heard was similar to one of the big bang, which initiated the creation of life. Although this time, there existed no more life on earth, and the shock of this event rendered Macy numb to all her senses.
Vanessa PoolianPublished 3 years ago in FuturismDeus Ex Machina
Her modus operandi was to drive the rotting beast into the ground and feel every second of it. Scrape, thud. Scrape, thud. Scrape, thud.
Taylor M WelchPublished 3 years ago in FuturismTHE AFTERMATH
It was the year 2050, the city of New York was in chaos as over a third of the population of New York had disappeared, their bodies vanished without a trace, leaving behind the things they wore. Some called it an alien invasion, others called it Doomsday; but for Professor Adam McShane, a Professor at NYU; it was the day he lost his beloved wife Alice, and 5-year-old daughter, Beverly. What happened? A question the great minds of the world were unable to answer.
Ninioritse E. TuedonPublished 3 years ago in FuturismMy Fault
Dammit, not again. Get away from me! My pants become treadmills to my collapsing lungs, a restless sensation grips at the chambers of my over functioning blood pumper, how are these god-forsaken monstrosities Hermes fast? The throbbing of my arm increases as the bound and leathered tree becomes a weight against my vivacious cheetah sprint, my arms constrained against their will to violently swing in gorilla like style. Most annoyingly is my promise that has come lose from its dead treed prison, mimicking my crazed thrashing motion. I take my eyes off smoke city, in the length of time, matching an ants figure, to reseal the escaped convict, when a rock bests my foot in a match of rock, foot, pavement. The worst part of that battle was I suffered twice; the foot out duelled by rock and my head out hardened by pavement. Crap! Their shadows shift to looming figures, with Perseus’s will I turn away, compassing my eyes to point towards my journal. Slithering along, my hand chokes the chain once again, my legs tightly wound as an eager Jack that waits to burst from his entrapment. Crrrcckk… My man-made feet pulverise the gravel, leaving whatever the hell one decides to name those beasts, behind my person, and my locket that broke free from its former cell. Double crap, I knew I should not have taken those laxatives! Are the mechanisms of my mind in need of a mechanic, for a mind made wall prevents me from advancing. I cannot leave her. Dammit to hell! A gear change has the gravel repented in its place, my tiger stools pounce upon their eyed-up prey. Where my legs land, my eyes wander elsewhere, they are now way too close for human comfort, like a lion behind a rusted wired cage; I dread their daggered bite. If only I were Pinocchio, then someone could Meister my wooden arms; I am ensnared by peering into their spidered revealing windows, their inner house a crimson décor.
Samuel FletcherPublished 3 years ago in FuturismThe Locket
The alien invasion was not such a blow as one would expect, after all the greed of man had already all but decimated the Earth. Eric had been wandering for months from town to town scavenging what he could. He had withered away to almost skin and bone, eating only when he was afraid he would pass out, it was also out of necessity as he found less and less edible goods. He found patches here and there where vegetation tried to grow but most was foul and gray looking with a bitter taste that would make you vomit whatever precious fluids you had retained.
Hearts of Aldora
“You said you had an update for me, Marsh?” Kennedy Johnson hovers above the corpse of his Jane Doe. “The chem print in her system isn’t on the Grid.” Dr. Marshall Walker hands Kennedy the tablet.
Kirtland NealPublished 3 years ago in FuturismHumanity At Peace
I sat alone in my room for the first time in several months. I had been given a pass to avoid working at my computer station after becoming a live-alone again, the room feels darker somehow despite the digital walls giving me a photogenic sunny day, even the air vents had been wafting a soft scent of what I assume are the outdoors. Not like anyone remembers what those really are any more I suppose, I certainly never did since as a thinker I was never allowed outside the walls of the city. Well to be fair, I've never really been outside of my room as a thinker. Everything I need is here.
Michael Dee TalleyPublished 3 years ago in Futurism