Sci Fi
Where the Ashes turn to Snow
Where the ashes turn to snow, he whispered to himself. The mechanic watched the great red line of soldiers march off into the distance, far from the colony’s protective field. He said that he needed help packing their mule, that he would need it fully charged, and that he must leave.
By Brett Bracalenti5 years ago in Fiction
A metal heart, much like my own
"It's not right, y'know!" The synth's head slowly moves up, looking away from the countertop he was stationed behind and in the process of wiping down for the fifteenth time since the marketplace had opened that morning. Standing on the other side was a man- A human, specifically, and not a particularly healthy one either from what he could gather- assuming his scanning equipment wasn't acting up again.
By Maxwell kattermann5 years ago in Fiction
Living?
We are being watched. Privacy is a laughable thought because we are always watched. If you want to be a part of modern civilization, you will accept this fact. With the use of cameras, GPS and microphones in smart watches, phones and smart glasses\H.U.D’s, there is never a time that you are not being listened to or when your location is unknown. The truly maddening part is that we not only allowed this to happen, we made it happen. People were worried about being tracked with microchips implanted under their skin but then chose to carry them in their devices without a second thought.
By L. A. McCullough5 years ago in Fiction
Eye of the Heart
EYE OF THE HEART We are passing through the eye of the needle. Dystopic, entropic, on topic, current day…. I walk through the barren streets with trash piled high, cartoon stinkwaves emanate from the effluent mountains left behind by humans deeply distracted. Deeply contracted. Internal/External refracted. We used to see with the eye of our hearts, Watching silken filaments connect everything to everything else in this world. Shimmering gossamer webs from plant to bird, the frothy white caps on a windy sea filled with bacteria pumping thermal vents into the air creating rain, nothing separate, nothing in isolation.
By Stardust Meatskeleton5 years ago in Fiction
Suffer The Children
“Open,” I demanded as I grabbed my ID card and headed for the door. It remained stubbornly closed. “I said, open!” “I’m sorry Stephen, you appear to have forgotten your rebreather,” House responded in an irritating sing-song voice. “Please put on your mask and try again.”
By Angel Whelan5 years ago in Fiction
Dream Cascade
Gazing across miles of jagged, fractured obsidian, the Machine remembers a human feeling. As much as it is vicariously capable. It meditates on the concept: feeling. Slowing and silencing the trillions of other near light speed thoughts and processes. It wants to experience; to feel; to exist fully in the present moment. It had been a cherished concept for human beings, who naturally found themselves more helplessly lost in their own stream of thoughts and fears - fears rooted in their own obvious biological short comings.
By Jeremy Enis5 years ago in Fiction
