Adam Clost
Bio
Canadian teacher & globetrotter
Reader of a wide variety of non-fiction (science/physics, philosophy, sociology/anthro/history) and science fiction (recently Chinese Sci-Fi).
Hobbyist writer, mostly Sci-Fi, for fun and as a creative outlet.
Achievements (1)
Stories (25)
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Teeth
The excruciating pain wrought by the teeth remained as an aftershock, a traumatic tremor inside of the beautiful blade, just as it would each time they delivered destruction. Though elders near it had learned to overcome this through “breeze appreciation,” the young blade had not learned this technique. It naively assumed facing the teeth would simply get easier, or that they would eventually stop.
By Adam Clost3 years ago in Fiction
Seat A10 (Conclusion)
“Adversary designation rescinded. A10 shows potential.” The cyborg released its grip on the young man. His body slid down the wall of the train car and crumpled into a heap in front of the machine. He coughed, gasping for a full breath of air as he scrambled to get to his hands and knees, then crawled a few measley feet away from the menacing machine marking his every move. He knew there was nowhere to go, but the young man felt slightly more comfortable by putting at least some kind of distance between himself and the cyborg.
By Adam Clost3 years ago in Fiction
Seat A10 (Part 2)
Despite feeling a sense of relief and calm washing over him, the young man remained slightly unnerved by what continued to pass by overhead, outside of the hatch. Inside of the train car, it felt like all of the distortion and pressure had dissipated, almost as though the train was floating in place rather than moving at an incredible rate of speed. Yet the open square above him framed the same phenomenon the windows of the train had earlier. Streaks of unimaginable colour whipped by the opening every few seconds, like lasers being shot from a spaceship in literally every science fiction movie he had ever seen.
By Adam Clost3 years ago in Fiction
Seat A10 (Part 1)
The young man’s eyes shot open. He sucked in air like a vacuum after having just been unkinked. *Hfffffff* As he tried to get his bearings, the sensations of really existing returned to his body. His nervous system acknowledged the stiff plastic of the seat he found himself in, sending electrical signals up his spinal column to suggest it was rigid, but reasonably comfortable and supportive. His olfactory senses kicked in and he could smell the slightly musty, re-circulated air gushing down at him out of the vent above his face. He realized that while the air from the vent was providing a light breeze, the temperature in the train-car felt atypically warm. The air hitting his face now was hardly cooling him down. If anything, it was actually making him start to feel sweaty and uneasy.
By Adam Clost3 years ago in Fiction
Cubicle
Witness Olivia reacted to the sounds immediately. Not because they surprised her, but because, in here, it was impossible for her to truly fall asleep. It was too dangerous to let herself relax or be unaware of her surroundings. Makeshift shelters like this were overcrowded and unregulated, but it was brutal outside at this time of year, and protection from the sub-zero temperatures beat out all of the other risks combined…. every time.
By Adam Clost4 years ago in Fiction
Unlimited
~~~~ How do YOU print your life? Can you CUSTOMIZE what you create? Can you truly make it your own? How many times have you been left staring at your AHP with that same disappointed feeling, thinking “This is the exact same model and colour as the last ergo-chair I printed…. I wish I could design my own.…” OR “Another double-cheeseburger…. The pickles will be just as bland as last time.”
By Adam Clost4 years ago in Fiction
We Are Our Keepers
Kaza glanced at her building’s information board as she strolled past it, turning her hand palm-side up at the scanner that would unseal the main doors for her. It was a ten foot tall LED reconstruction of her tower, outlined in white, and separating the building’s floors by colour; blue, yellow, purple, and green at the top. The colours demonstrated which floors had been designated for different demographics living in the building, and although they could change and shift as the population did, there was rarely a need for any change.
By Adam Clost4 years ago in Fiction
