fact or fiction

Is it science fact or science fiction? Futurism presents both sides to determine the truth.

35 Hudson Yards
He was the last man in the building. Or maybe the world. He couldn’t be sure yet. He stepped to the window, by his mother’s side. They watched the red sky deepen: their last sunset together, in all likelihood.
By David Spurr Smith5 years ago in Futurism
The Secret of the Mansion
Truth be told I don’t want to die in that way, I just wish there was some way to disappear from life temporarily. I made it back to my bedroom and glanced at a little black notebook that sat atop my nightstand. It was actually a journal of bucket lists that I wrote back in college. I skimmed through the pages and realized how dark some of my goals were. Suddenly, I saw something strange. On one of the pages, I apparently wrote “ come across $20,000.” Um, was I high when I wrote this? Come across? Like I expected to magically find $20,000 somehow without earning it? I couldn’t recall what led me to write this or what even happened. I wracked my brain but I couldn’t think of anything. Frustrated that I was nowhere near ever reaching this goal, I slumped back into bed and closed my eyes.
By Yvonne Tran5 years ago in Futurism
A Simple Wish
It was a miserable January day, rainy, cold and grey. She was almost arriving at work. She felt trapped, wishing that the bus journey would last forever, feeling the sinking hopelessness of another work day in a job where she was miserable. If only she had enough money to at least live a happy life outside of work, but no. Sarah was on less than minimum wage, washing dishes, with the world’s weight on her shoulders. Just turned thirty and had nothing to show for herself. No career, no savings, no partner, no actual belongings, except for a few bits and bobs, and the dreading realisation that the world was near its end. Global warming was progressing faster than ever and modern society was falling apart. “If only time would stand still for a minute!” she whispered. Time was beginning to run out on her. At her age, her mom was already married with kids and with a good job. Sarah couldn’t be farther from that reality. Days, months and years would go by while she was stuck in this never ending routine.
By Joana Neves5 years ago in Futurism
Little Black Book
It had been a year since I had naively accepted the contract that was supposed to change everything. The offer, when it came, had read like something out of a dream I had lazily hoped for a decade ago. When the letter had come wax sealed on thick, expensive stationary, I saw stars. Hiram Thomas’ firm in Dorchester, England was the stuff of legend in the fiction community, particularly for his fantasy pieces. He had an extremely small, intimate team who churned out a book once every few years. But every work was a masterpiece. My letter had said that my work could bring a refreshing perspective on their team. Writing under Hiram’s brilliant tutelage would be just what my stale career needed. What I found, however, was a grouchy, insane old man who lived like a recluse in a cottage on a hillside.
By Emily Morro5 years ago in Futurism
Little Black What?
It wasn’t the place I would normally find myself. Full of smokers, some classic rock placing over the new, digital jukebox. The wall on the far side of the room was painted from top to bottom, a mural of World War 2 and Korea. Being the youngest and, albeit, not a perfect ten, one of the more attractive women in the joint, I tried to avoid any contact with anyone and casually made my way over to a tall table against the wall. Someone brushes shoulders with me on their way out the door, guess I really am invisible, jerk.
By Kylie Best5 years ago in Futurism
META
“Three hundred children died in the explosion- the third deadliest event in Texas history. As a result, an emergency legislative session was called. The new laws required thiols to be added to natural gas so that leaks could be more easily detected.” Holy cow! Zahnrad Katze’s eyes widened as she read the details of the tragedy.
By Eidolon Schreiber 5 years ago in Futurism
The Fifth Death of Phoenix Esposito
My grandfather was twenty-four the first time he killed Phoenix Esposito. I remember the story like I was there. The night, the storm, twin headlights winding between the forest. The rain, falling in sheets, the din on the cabin rooftop, the weak crackling radio. Lightning, a corner, a long stretch of road. And then there it is.
By Benjamin Keyworth5 years ago in Futurism
A Time of Endings
Uncle lived in a trailer on the edge of my grandparent’s old property, where I now live. He was somewhat of a hoarder, and was different from the rest of the family. I didn’t mind his peculiar ways, and would visit him often.
By Tara Chatterton5 years ago in Futurism
Decisions
When I was 12 years old, I would visit a hidden village. I say village due to its location. The houses were modern enough, but they just happened to be surrounded by trees and over-growth. It reminded me of a post-apocalyptic movie “the town that time forgot” or something like that. On one such trip to this destitute place I happened upon a little black book. It was in a pile of soot caked debris. I picked it up brushing the dirt and grime from the cover turning it over in my hands. It appeared to be in fair condition given that I found it amongst the debris of an old house that burned down long ago. I flipped the pages with my thumb thinking that it may crumble and blow away like dust in an anime. I tossed it backed in the rubble not finding anything interesting about the book other than it survived the fire remarkably well. I began looking through the other piles of charred remains that once were the house. I really couldn’t tell you if I was searching for anything in particular. I only knew I wanted to find something. Through the other piles I found a spoon, tarnished, and blackened, an oddly shaped key, and small bag made of leather. These visits could be all day affairs and I quickly learned to bring food. After what felt like hours of rummaging, I placed the four items in a line in front of me while I sat down against a tree and ate the lunch.
By Corey5 years ago in Futurism
The Bane of Being a Pisces
The story of Pisces began with a monster. A horrible, terrifying monster with a hundred different heads. Wild boars, bellowing beasts and fire breathing dragons, and every head had blazing red eyes that glowed with fire, and never once closed in sleep.
By Linda Caroll5 years ago in Futurism
The Citizens
THE CITIZENS The Citizens are a group of genetically modified humans grown in the ‘storehouse’ of the city. They carry the genetic potential of nearly every human civilization from the pre-turmoil period. In essence, they are living time-capsules of human variation.
By Judah LoVato5 years ago in Futurism
A Shared Dream
Three hours left. It was one of those days when the clock seemed to be moving at hyper speed. An usual day. Every minute slipping by with ease. Aiden found himself daydreaming, staring out the window. Going over, once more, the dream he had last night. Paying no attention to the lecture.
By Christine Penxa5 years ago in Futurism