Sci Fi
Memory
The login indicator for his game was boring. He was running seven other processes while he waited for the server handshake protocol to finish, including finishing up a movie from before The Fall. The latest upgrades to the network meant he had nearly limitless memory access. As the startup sequence for the game began, he actualized one of his current favorite avatars. He stepped into the game's lobby a seven-foot tall, neon green version of himself - or at least as near to himself as he could remember. It had been so long since he checked, so long since he’d even thought of checking. Mirrors obviously were not an option anymore. But green was cool right now, or it was trending in the last several minutes at least. That was all anyone would really notice.
By Colin Withrow5 years ago in Fiction
The Lonely Heart Club
Leith Mitchell, was simply a regular, boring dude. At least that’s how he saw himself. Boring brown eyes, lifeless brown hair and no hopes of being anything more. Like most 30 something year old guys his age, he thought he would have accomplished more in his life by now. It’s hard to be “that guy” when you’re alone. You ever wonder what it’s like to be alone, not like for a few days, but forever? So alone that you’ve forgotten the smells that find your nose when walking past a bakery first thing in the morning. Or the sound of some determined businessman yelling at his phone as he switches back and forth between rideshare apps waiting for a black sedan with a methed out college kid to appear to take him to the office.
By Tamara Warzecha 5 years ago in Fiction
The Atlantic Locket
I attempt to dig the balls of my feet into the core of the planet with every stride, knowing that each one could be my last. A quick blip of red on my right lets me know the blast is coming, dipping my head to the left, the flash of light whizzes past my head, almost greeting me as it passes by. The heart-shaped grooves of the locket fit snug in the divots of my hand. As my foot finds soil, a small contraption is released from my heel. For a moment it sits, waiting. My pursuers set off the sensor and a wall of spindling electricity erupts out of the tiny tri-starred device, subduing the lead three. More beams of light flash by my torso and helmet. If it weren’t for the uncertainty of the terrain’s dips and dances, I might’ve been hit by now. The ground’s playful movement makes it hard to be precise, like that of the effect of a zebra’s stripes it aids my dodges in the dash. Peeking behind, I land a shot on the furthest left, right below the shoulder. With another trick sparking from my heel, it scatters the particles of the ground below, leaving one of my assailants to fall into the cavernous underworld. The other noticed the discoloration in the nick of time, jumping over the slight blue tint. He’s gaining on me. A shot tears through my suit’s fabric and my ribs. With a hushed wail, I fall to the ground. He stands ten feet away, gun trained on my head, a smile on his face. The shot rings out, a static echo filling the air. I open my eyes, thanking God I made it to my ship. The charge from its blasters winds down as my attempted killer falls to the ground with a deep crevice in his chest. I catch a glimpse inside, willing myself to look away, I now know their insides are blue.
By Rayne Lalonde5 years ago in Fiction
All I Have Left
It's been 5 years since the sky fell on us. Well, not quite, but it sure feels like it. There was a meteor that struck the Atlantic Ocean, flooding much of Europe, Africa and the Americas. The waters boiled because of the heat of the impact, so the floods scalded everything in it's path. Must've been horrific beyond words, and what remained of those continents and the rest of the world were hit with radiation. Some areas worse than others, the unflooded surrounding areas getting hit the hardest. The radiation itself wiped out a lot of the world's vegetation and animals, slowly collapsing the ecosystem. Surviving animals and people in those regions suffered mutations from the fallout of the impact and the heated waters, and were separated from the rest of us. They're being called the Stigmas. It's a harsh name, but fear has risen of them being contagious, so they're kept out of the safe zones for our protection. Unfortunately my parents were among them. They were taken away with no regard for any of us. If they're alive or dead, I have no idea. Now all I have left is my little sister, Tiffany. No more than 6 years old. Poor thing doesn't even know a life outside the walls. A life of fun and exploration, a kid's life. Hell, even I'm not so sure what life was like anymore. I was only 14 when it hit, still a child myself. I was forced to grow up fast for her, because I am all she has left and had to take care of her on my own. A child raising a child. Sure, we would receive financial help from friends and family from time to time, but at the end of the day, it was just me and her. They could only help so much and survive themselves, after all. It's hard at the end of the world, you know? Can't hold it against them, they're doing their best. Not like the Wardens and their guards, though. They take care of the zones, but not so much the people. They say they're protecting us from the Stigmas and keeping order in trying to stabilize the regions, but all I ever see is them beating us down and feeding us promises of a better tomorrow. Heh, right. I wish I could just take Tiff and get out of here, but then I think "where would we go?" The world is dying or already dead out there, and we would be too in no time. Damn it. There's no winning.
By Adam Franco5 years ago in Fiction
Happiness
Happiness “It was real, and you know it. I still haven’t—” “Please use “I” statements and first names only. Ownership of our actions and thoughts is imperative to progressing in therapy.” Dr. Roberts smiles and darts her eyes to the left corner of the room.
By M. Gregory 5 years ago in Fiction
URANIAN VIOLET
URANIAN VIOLET The Uranus Robotic Survey Assignment mission of 2133 had been successful. The URSA probe had returned after orbiting Uranus seven months, thrice dipping into its gaseous atmosphere, sending back streams of data and taking samples. Big media coverage of the returned probe landing had possibly caused the error. Scientists and astronomers had gloated over the information disks, passing over a few seemingly unobtrusive, purple stains on the skin of the probe. They were briefly studied, determined unexplainable and forgotten in the wealth of other details.
By Stephen Vernarelli5 years ago in Fiction
Mind Lockers
Magnus stuffed the last bit of clothing into Maiken’s pack, pushing her downward as he did. “Se det!” she yelled, “trying to hobble me before I leave?” He smirked. His sister was stronger and bigger than most men. She was bred for this mission, among other things. “Ok Mai, you have smoked hare, millet, squash seeds and a couple of protein envelopes that I was able to sneak off campus. I’m giving you snares, paracord, fishing filament, my cold fire kit and, well, you know the rest. Remember to always have ice in your helmet and breastplates. Even in sub-zero temperatures your heat signature can be detected. Move only at night and whatever you do, do not burn anything. The days will only last several hours so rest and hide when it’s light.” She fingered the frayed edge of her traditional Faroese sweater, a relic from normal times. They had been planning this mission for years, waiting for winter and a break in the harvesting schedule so she could slip away without being immediately missed. “And now,” he said, “the most important item.” He held up a thin chain and clasped it around her neck. Her hand instinctively went up to clutch the familiar shape. She and her twin had been refining their father’s technology for decades. Magnus retrieved an identical piece from his pocket, and they both began to hum. Each heart-shaped locket was irrationally light for its size. Niobium, he told her, with a little titanium and zirconium. The guts of the lockets were far beyond her comprehension, liquid metals, coils of fiberoptics, crystalized plasmas and elements that didn’t exist on the periodic table she learned. When she rolled it around, she could both hear and feel a certain gyroscopic sloshiness.
By Carol Ann Witschi5 years ago in Fiction
The Cause
The wail of the emergency siren nearly drowned out the sound of screeching tires and revved engines as cars began rapidly disappearing from the barracks parking lot. Michelle reached for the heart-shaped locket worn around her neck as she studied the horizon from her balcony looking for any signs of danger promised by the deafening horn. She studied the locket between her thumb and index finger in an effort to ground herself for what was to come. She had recently completed the U.S. Army’s Ranger School as a junior enlisted Army soldier and still sported the shaved head to prove it. She was no stranger to hardship.
By Jeremy Noble5 years ago in Fiction
