Psychological
The Life-Extending Conundrum
Dr. Elara Voss had always been haunted by the specter of time. As a child, she’d watched her mother wither away from a illness that clawed at her vitality day by day. By the time Elara turned 30, she’d dedicated her life to a single question: What if death didn’t have to be inevitable?
By Free Citizen10 months ago in Fiction
The V.R. Arcade
"Dude, these things are nuts!" Mikey grinned. Toby couldn't see his eyes through the V.R. helmet on his head, but he could imagine them boggling out of his skull. Honestly, Toby couldn't blame him for being excited. Who'd have thought a small town like theirs would be lucky enough to get a brand new arcade, let alone one packed to the gills with top-of-the-line virtual reality games? It was every thirteen-year-old boy's dream come true. They'd spent all day - and most of their allowance - with those beautiful immersive games, but the fun would have to end soon.
By Natalie Gray10 months ago in Fiction
The Lazarus Algorithm
When he unveiled The Lazarus Algorithm, it was meant to be a medical breakthrough—a way to preserve human consciousness indefinitely. Using a fusion of quantum computing and synthetic neurons, the system could scan, replicate, and upload a person’s mind into an artificial body. It wasn’t just immortality; it was continuity. You wouldn’t just live forever. You would be forever.
By The Kind Quill10 months ago in Fiction
Fear of Flying
Chapter 1: The Quiet Orders Flight Officer Thomas Merrin received his assignment in the rain. A folded letter. Three stamped words. “REPORT FOR SORTIE.” No explanation, no map—just coordinates and a time. The war didn’t need clarity anymore. It needed obedience. It needed bodies in planes and prayers in engines.
By Alpha Cortex10 months ago in Fiction
The Unseen Canvas
In the quiet town of Meadowgrove, where whispers were the loudest sounds, lived an artist named Elara. Her paintings were windows into souls, each stroke telling a story words could not. Yet, Elara had not painted in years, not since the fire that claimed her studio and left her with scars mirroring her shattered spirit.
By Alain SUPPINI10 months ago in Fiction
Broken Dreams and Pony Screams. Content Warning.
It was Sunday and raining. It was April, 1822. My father was teaching me how to ride a horse through the mud. He said it was dangerous in New York for a young lady such as myself, being both beautiful and wealthy, not to know how to ride a horse. I might need to escape aggressive, or worse, peasant suitors.
By Alex H Mittelman 10 months ago in Fiction
