Sci Fi

to arms
Spacers could care less, but most planet-bound types are quick to wrangle over the cause of the long and ongoing intrasolar war. Earthers claim it has to do with mother world sovereignty and maintaining primacy rights. Venusians argue they are protecting their unique bio-techno-cultural development. Martians seem to just love a fight, be it good, bad or ugly.
By majoki2 months ago in Fiction
strange soil
The new crop was the strangest I’d ever seen. Vine-like and fast growing, but with no apparent fruit or other nutritional attributes. Shaliman and I never quite knew what we’d see each cycle. That was up to the ag techs. We just kept our heads down and did what they said, sweating in the mammoth growgrids.
By majoki2 months ago in Fiction
The Observer Effect
Dr. Aris Thorne’s mission was one of pure, academic observation. Her destination: a Neolithic settlement in Northern Europe, 3000 BCE. The date: the Autumn Equinox. Her goal: to finally document the undisrupted "Rite of Balance," a ceremony where ancient druids were said to harmonize the dying sun with the coming dark, ensuring a mild winter. It was the holy grail of temporal anthropology.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
My Heartbeat Was the Password
By Abdul Hadi My Heartbeat Was the Password In 2049, nothing required a key anymore—not doors, not cars, not bank accounts, not even your memories. Everything was tied to one thing: your heartbeat. A biometric signature supposedly impossible to fake. Your pulse was your identity, your security, your weapon, your weakness.
By Abdul Hadi2 months ago in Fiction
older than Google
“What do you know? You’re older than Google.” A pretty spicy thing for a second grader to say on the third day of school, but Katella had a point. I was born in 1993, five years before the nascent “don’t be evil” search engine forced us to learn the word algorithm. And though most of us have a preschooler’s understanding of the term, we still seem content to trust the search results Google serves up to us. Which is comparable to asking your drug dealer, “Are there any nasty side effects?”
By majoki2 months ago in Fiction
Ascetica
The stylites perched atop their brainframe pillars feverishly coding as the throngs below prostrated themselves and wailed in supplication.
By majoki2 months ago in Fiction
The Whispering Heart
No one knew how old the Great Oak was, or who had first discovered its secret. The tree stood at the heart of the woods, a gnarled giant with a hollow in its trunk so large a child could crawl inside. But it wasn't empty. It was a library. Not for books, but for feelings. They called it the Whispering Heart.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
The Halo
This story was inspired by recurring themes I've noticed in large entities. Companies going from individual people with big dreams doing a labor of love to cash hungry corporations who recycle the same crap. This genre is inspired by that, the electric state, liminality, surrealism, and other dystopian/cyberpunk themes. This story in particular draws upon religion to create a certain juxtaposition, inspired by other horror and "the salvation project". Written in November 2025 as a freshman in high school.
By Chad McBroski2 months ago in Fiction
The Ghost in My Reflection
𝘐 𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐 𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘈𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦—𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘐 𝘚𝘢𝘸 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘉𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘈𝘵 𝘔𝘦 It happened on a night when everything felt too heavy to carry.
By Fazal Hadi2 months ago in Fiction
3I/ATLAS: THE SILENT INVASION?
It began like any other clear night behind a suburban fence: a man alone with a telescope, coffee gone cold, his breath fogging the inside of his jacket. He called himself Avery in online forums — a careful hobbyist who spent weekends mapping the slow, obedient paths of comets. On the night he trained his rig on the coordinates labeled 3I/ATLAS, he expected nothing dramatic. He expected the thin, ghostly tail of a dust-crumb comet and the small, private pleasure of a discovery logged and forgotten.
By Wellova 2 months ago in Fiction
The Forgotten Room
In our house, the hallway upstairs had a rule: Never touch the last door on the left. Mom never wrote it down, but the rule was solid as concrete. Holidays, birthdays, random Tuesdays - nobody went in. If a guest got lost looking for the bathroom and wandered too far, they were intercepted with a speed that suggested Olympic training and generational trauma.
By The Kind Quill2 months ago in Fiction
The Night Postman Who Delivered Forgotten Hearts. AI-Generated.
The city was a mosaic of silence after midnight — windows dim, roads empty, and the sky stitched together with thin, patient stars. Most people slept. Most people dreamed.
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Fiction