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”.

One Day Off
The smell of exhaust and fumes itch my nose. It always smells worse when it's cold. It's my one day off this week, and I know exactly what I plan to do: Nothing.
By Malcolm Roach2 years ago in Futurism
Synaptor-E. Content Warning.
In 2050, The name on everyone's lips was "Synaptor," a drug that had the power to unlock the full potential of the human mind. With a single dose, individuals could experience heightened intelligence, expanded memory, enhanced cognitive abilities, and enhanced physical strength allowing them to achieve feats of brilliance and physical prowess that would have been impossible before.
By Alex H Mittelman 2 years ago in Futurism
Meeting Amanda
The evening was rolling in with brisk breaks of wind while I walked into the mall, looking for that cheap notebook I wanted for my poetry and other thoughts going on inside my head. While walking to the small little shop where they were, I noticed a beautiful looking woman standing taller than the stands walking right past me. I couldn’t help but to script out my approach as I was walking towards her.
By Guillermo2 years ago in Futurism
Reign of the Pussfellows
By Rick Hartford Hank looked at his face in the mens room mirror. Haggard and hung over, just behind his eyes was a spot that felt as if it had been hit by a ball-peen hammer. He took out his flask and slugged back a shot of whisky, bent to the sink and splashed cold water on his eyes.
By Rick Hartford2 years ago in Futurism
Another Multitude of Her
When things went wrong, we used to say it was the multiverse crashing into us that was to blame. Like an old superstition in the olden time. Crashing your car was the multiverse. If you said or did something you regretted, you blamed it on the other you from the multiverse. Overtime again was the multiverse curse.
By Dark Constellations2 years ago in Futurism
It is 2050
It is 2050 and at 1212 on a beautiful spring afternoon, a [6523] detonates an unaliving vest in the lobby of a courthouse. By 1227 more than a dozen organizations have taken credit for the attack, which claimed the lives of 4 and injured a dozen more.
By J. Otis Haas2 years ago in Futurism
Through the City
I warm my hands with water from the faucet. Not as warm as I'd like, but not many public restrooms have burning hot water anymore. I squeeze out as much soap as possible, rubbing my palms. First, I rub the right palm over the back of my left hand, interlacing my fingers. I clench one fist and scrub the back of my fingers against the opposite palm, then move to polish my thumb. My fingers, the back of my hands, and my palms turn red as I rinse. Not trusting when the paper was last replaced, I take out my own, meticulously drying each finger, getting under the nails, tracing the lines of my palm. Dry. I use the paper to turn off the faucet.
By Dark Constellations2 years ago in Futurism
Tear Drop Flaw. Top Story - January 2025.
Deep brown hair fell to the elevator floor. Pulling the strands forward I flattened them against my brows and snipped. Willing my shaking hands still. Anything less than perfect would give me away.
By MikMacMeerkat2 years ago in Futurism
Elysium. Top Story - January 2025.
Addictions haunt you. Sometimes, it's a familiar scent. Other times, it's the face of someone you wronged. Elysium was my addiction. I escaped it once. Now it’s a shadow that follows me everywhere—billboards, holo-ads—hell, there are even whispers of a Zenith Cup halftime show.
By Jay Zab2 years ago in Futurism
Scientia Rising. Runner-Up in Future Fragments Challenge.
Charlie watches a drop of blood pop out with the needle, smearing a red blotch over a dark brown age spot. He never thought he would ever get used to it, putting a tiny pin into his own flesh. However, it is the best and easiest option for medical advice. Gone are the days when he needed to make appointments months in advance, then sit in a room full of people freely sharing their bacterial or viral spores with one another. Uncomfortably waiting forty-five minutes or longer past your scheduled time, only to be rushed through by an overworked exhausted doctor, who hands you a paper with the latest untested drug, for you to try.
By JBaz2 years ago in Futurism
A Springtime Vow
The first green of the new spring is breaking through the snow, slowly shaking off winter’s deathly embrace. For some reason, it catches me off guard, that patch of colour among the fading, stained white. Never the pristine white of my youth, not in an age. But still snow, and safe enough for the children to play it.
By Alexander McEvoy2 years ago in Futurism
A log for the Time Capsule
March 5th, 2050, Joanne Folds residence 6:24 am This morning, I woke up, made some coffee then exited the bomb shelter. It’s a perfect day, the temperature is a wonderful 78 degrees with a slight breeze in the air, thanks to the shield around the Earth and industrial fans creating a gentle breeze. On the ham radio I hear scientists almost have a fix for climate change, but they’ve been saying that for years.
By Robert Kegel2 years ago in Futurism