Sci Fi
The Man Who Repaired Sunsets. AI-Generated.
Every evening at precisely 6:21 p.m., the sky above Old Harbour performed the same tired ritual. The sun dipped low, the clouds gathered in a half-hearted formation, and the horizon glowed in a colour that looked incomplete—like an artist who left the canvas unfinished and simply walked away.
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Fiction
A Christmas Glitch. Top Story - December 2025.
The twins were dead. Our hero knew it, and you may imagine that a little something in him unclenched when he saw the news on his screen. Now, at last, he was truly free of them, and the knowledge was like a sigh. Were he a balloon animal, one segment of his torso (or his neck, or one intestinal-esque limb) would have gently unscrewed itself. His heart and lungs lost a little creak that he didn't even know he'd been carrying.
By L.C. Schäfer2 months ago in Fiction
The Thursday Murder Society
The "Wellspring Oaks Retirement Village Thursday Book Club" had, for years, been a sedate affair dedicated to gentle historical fiction and benign bestsellers. That changed when sharp-tongued, former literature professor Martha took over as moderator. She introduced them to Dark Academia.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
The Algorithm That Fell in Love
I never expected love to begin with a glitch. Most stories start with chance meetings, coffee shop encounters, or running into someone on a strange Tuesday afternoon. Mine began with a software update. One tiny change in code. One harmless patch meant to make an algorithm “more intuitive.”
By Fazal Hadi2 months ago in Fiction
The Algorithm That Predicted My Death
he Algorithm That Predicted My Death When data knows your future… before you dare to imagine it. When the government released Lifeline, an AI-powered health prediction system, everyone called it the greatest innovation of the century. Hospitals celebrated fewer sudden deaths, insurance companies celebrated lower risks, and people celebrated the illusion of control over their fate.
By Abdul Hadi2 months ago in Fiction
The Wabi-Sabi of Time. AI-Generated.
In the near future, memory is no longer something fragile, fading, or human. It is editable. The world calls it The Polisher—a sleek, palm-sized device that can smooth out the rough edges of any memory. A heartbreak becomes a polite farewell. A failure becomes a valuable lesson. A lonely night becomes a quiet moment of “self-reflection.” In this era, no one carries emotional scars. No one remembers the rawness of living. Everything is curated. Everything is clean.
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Fiction
Glow
Back in the ’20s and early ’30s, the old building on 79th Street was known as Club-79. Many of the greats played there—Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, and Fletcher Henderson, just to name a few. The audience often included notable people like Coco Chanel, Charlie Chaplin, Al Capone, and even Albert Einstein. If you were alive then, this was the place to be.
By David E. Perry2 months ago in Fiction
