Sci Fi

Day:2 Ded Moone Camp Facility. Content Warning.
I was told to get a feel on my own. That’s what I get for asking a question after midnight. Dark and wet, I could appreciate the existance of a trail to the rear of the island, the hike through the brush, the single slip i'd be from disappearing in the drink for a gulp. Sleeping comes whenever the hell it wants, but it eventually skews me back toward the night shift with everyone else here, so far. It’s those brief moments of sunlight in the late evening when I've caught a rare dose of nap. This night ended at the bar on the stool. I never thought it would be this comfortable all those times I was prevented from indulging in the act by the sheer ridiculousness of the look as it was the movie staple of the down trotted fuck-up. The Voice, it—I am literally dying for this shit, so excuse the fucking bias I may share as I bring this up, but to keep with my journaling immersion technique from Wolfman Patrick, i have to be cautious aboout said—context.
By Willem Indigo2 months ago in Fiction
Lead Lungs
Malcolm caught the train back at 1:35 in the morning. Despite the time, the station was still buzzing. Europa was a city of the night. It almost seemed to thrive more in darkness, than it did in light. The train produced sounds of the air being sliced; akin to wind whipping past you on the edge of a misty cliff. Rain pelted the windows, scraping against them near horizontal. The train twisted and turned through the high-rise buildings around it, the tracks carefully carving through the skyline. The speed made every twist and turn barely noticeable, although his stomach would occasionally flip at the thought of travelling 250 miles per hour into a concrete wall. He felt in his pocket for the comforting outline of his Singer .45 Pistol. The feeling of simple safety. At least the Eclipse don’t steal. One of the few merits he could give them.
By Meshable2 months ago in Fiction
What the Moment Means
“What does this moment mean to you, Mitchell? “What do you mean? “This moment. This feeling. Winning the gold” “Winning the gold was a few moments ago. More than a few actually. How do you define a moment, Chet?”
By majoki2 months ago in Fiction
Known Unknown
A finite number of particle arrangements means the arrangement of particles within a finite patch must be duplicated an infinite number of times. The metaverse is the result. That was the prevailing theory. The testable known.
By majoki2 months ago in Fiction
Starfall Chronicles: The Fractured Veil. AI-Generated.
CHAPTER 1 — THE ECHOES OF VIRELUX In the twilight-blue skies of Virelux, humanity’s farthest colony, the twin moons glowed like pale lanterns. The city of Luminaris shimmered beneath them—a metropolis powered by crystalline reactors, humming with both science and sorcery. Hover trams glided along neon-lit rails, while Guardian Wards—pulses of energy drawn from ancient alien glyphs—kept the city safe from temporal storms.
By Smyrna2 months ago in Fiction
The Cozy-Tok Tyrant
The mission was “Cozy Core Autumn.” Elara had spent three hundred dollars and six hours building the perfect set in the corner of her apartment. A chunky knit blanket, artfully draped. A vintage copy of Jane Eyre. A ceramic mug from a local potter, filled with a cinnamon-dusted latte that had taken four tries to foam correctly. Three strategically placed pumpkin spice candles, because the algorithm loved odd numbers.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
atop
You see some funny things at altitude. Up near the pass on an afternoon when low clouds raked the peaks, I was leaned against my knapsack pecking at sharp cheddar on stiff bread tasting faintly of dust when up the rocky trail that wound towards the pass, two figures apparated out of the mist.
By majoki2 months ago in Fiction
Extratouristrials
*It was obvious the indigenous creature was in an expiring condition,* wrdlgrp expressed matter-of-factly to the processing agent handling his arrival.
By majoki2 months ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Spoke to Shadows. AI-Generated.
The Boy Who Spoke to Shadows Rayan was eight when he first noticed the extra shadow. It appeared on a quiet November night — the kind where the cold crept under doors, and the moon shone bright enough to make the whole room glow silver. He had woken from a dream he couldn’t remember, his heart beating too fast, his throat too dry.
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Fiction
The Library That Remembered Her. AI-Generated.
The Library That Remembered Her Arman had not planned to walk that way. He never did. The old district near the abandoned harbor was a place he avoided — every street carried the faint echo of her laughter. But that night, the wind felt oddly familiar, almost like someone was guiding him by the sleeve. Before he could realize where his feet were leading, he was standing in front of a building he had never seen before.
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Fiction
The Weaver's Truth
In a quiet corner of the city, tucked between a bakery and a bookshop, was Elara’s tailor shop, “The Mended Seam.” Its true treasure wasn't on display. It was a threadbare tailcoat of no particular color, hanging on a brass hook in the back, known only to those who were truly lost. Elara called it the Weaver’s Coat.
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
the trees are chatty
“What a poetic way of expressing it, Sibyl,” Cassie warily admitted. She was walking along the stream that meandered through the glade, the aspens chattering in the stiffening evening breeze.
By majoki2 months ago in Fiction