humanity

The evolution of humanity, from one advancement to the next.

Color Runner
The bridge above her head offered her protection from the acidic rain pouring down. Two hours had already passed while she waited for it to stop. Moving through the burning rain was her only option.
By Anna R Blankenship5 years ago in Futurism
Bleeding Heart
Dear Doomsday Dairy, 17/03/2031 Today I went for a walk, the sky was clear of the constricting dense smog that never seemed to go away, and the temperature was blissfully cool, I am glad I went on that walk. I walked past the Hive Mind Station and saw our glorious peacekeepers changing shifts, then I stood in front of the Liberty House and paid thanks to our glorious leaders for keeping us safe from the anarchist faction that wanted to destroy our utopian way of life. I then walked through the park, laying down on the comforting synthetic grass that was mass produced in one of the local factories.
By Phoenix B. A. Rose-Mundy5 years ago in Futurism
Locket
The humidity feels more suffocating than usual as I wipe the dust off the can I found in an old, abandoned cupboard in an equally old and abandoned house. That’s a perfect description for just about everything nowadays. Old and abandoned. This place used to be nice. High ceilings with delicate light fixtures that no longer worked. Solid wood furniture that’s now covered in enough dust to fill the Sahara. It even had central air at one point going by the thermostat on the wall. That would have been nice. I’m so sick of being hot and sticky with sweat.
By Virginia Nightingale5 years ago in Futurism
Someone To Love
“You may take a seat,” the relevant chair was indicated by the pencil tip of the administrator. “I trust you have been stripped of your devices; there are none present in this room. As you can see from these quaint historical artefacts.” She raised the pencil. “Our conversation is for us and us alone.”
By Theo Drane5 years ago in Futurism
Future Parts
Orange Juice The man sits at the table, and he says, “I bought this bottle of orange juice that was the single greatest bottle of orange juice I’ve ever had… sold by the actual farmer who made the oranges”, and he looks at the girls’ smiling faces and he says, “no really, you don’t get juice like that any more”. The girls look up at him through thick lashes, and one girl says, “I’ve never tasted orange juice”, and he looks at her and he says, “Yeah? I drink that stuff all the time”, and the other girl leans towards him and smiles, and she says, “you should buy us some”, and he laughs and leans back into the booth. “This stuff here’s not even worth drinking. It’s farm of nothing, seriously”. He looks over their heads, knee dancing. “I’ve got to take you girls out to the farm sometime”, and the girls nod and say “yeah”. “Bet you haven’t even seen the night sky before now”, and one girl laughs, but the man looks at her seriously. He picks up his fork and waves it at her. “Sky’s not even real below the 50th floor. Can’t even see the stars”. He picks up his knife and cuts savagely into his steak. “I’ll take you girls higher sometime. You know…” he fills his mouth with steak. The girls watch him grind it down. “Not straight away though. All you girls ever want is to get on a higher floor. But you know,” he swallows. “There needs to be a real connection”. The girls nod. “Yeah”. The man grows confident. “It’ll change your life” he says. “Really puts a bit of perspective on things”.
By Al Speers5 years ago in Futurism
A Dateless Unending
A flurry of gray ash flakes floated from her eyelashes to the cracked floor, covering the last centimeter of chestnut she could see. And it felt like 1,200. It had been 1,200. 1,200 blinks since she stood up, disoriented and alone. People say an hour goes by quickly -- that it all goes by quickly. But as she stood there dazed, trying to piece together what had happened, realizing she was alone, her perspective on time had changed. An hour no longer took 60 minutes, it took the agonizing pain of 1,200 time loops where she opened and closed her eyes to the same unmoving devastation.
By Maria Alejandra Mora5 years ago in Futurism
Little Lightning
“Do you remember what I told you, Little Lightning?” “Grandma, do you have to call me that? I’m not seven anymore. I’m seventeen. I don’t need your nicknames anymore.”
By E. L. Maloney5 years ago in Futurism
Ordinary
A boy is sitting atop the pylon. “The fear of never falling in love and the tears after losing the feelings of what you thought love was” was tattooed in bold, neat letters across Ignatius’ back. “In humility count others more significant than yourselves” was tattooed in the same style across Uriel’s chest. At least that’s what I think their names were: it was the label on their cages – Ignatius ascending in front of me, Uriel behind me. “Ascension in progress, attention. Ascension in progress, attention,” the cube atop the pylons would radiate – I say radiate, because I don’t think I can hear.
By Rebeka Bojboi5 years ago in Futurism
An Unknown Love Story...
It was so cold. The mist was lashing out on my freezing cheeks. My hands, red and cracked were stuffed deep in my pockets. My feet were wet and I was in a hurry. I was on my way home, a sad, bed bug ridden, no electric lightning, with a shared commode kind of place. But my room was private. A small corner, with a dollar store shower liner that had a growing purple stain in the middle of it, provided a little bit of privacy in an abandoned house the government hadn't seized yet. I should feel grateful having space of my own where I can lay my head. But grateful wasn't a word most of us who lived in Panpe used. The rain was really coming down now. The night sky dark and moonless. I turned left onto the dirt path that lead to the house. The trees were swaying in the wind and rain, how it sounds like music, I thought, that's when I heard the familiar sound, a terrifying squelch that sends shiver own my spine everynight notifyng those of us still out the city lights were shutting off for the next twelve hours. The Royal Reserve Police were about to gallup through town looking for drifters. I continued trudging along the path, when a silvery glint caught my eye. Curious, I walked toward the object, looking sideways to make sure it wasn't a trap, some drifter looking to rob me of my bed bug stained overcoat. Seeing no one, I crouched down, squinting in the cold rain. There, almost completely uncovered from the eroded soil, was a long, silver necklace. I reached out, touched it, not believing what I was seeing was real, with shaky hands, I plucked it out of it's watery grave. A large, silver locket, a bombay heart pendant. Old, lost, forgotten. Glinting in the dark moonless night, a long necklace, something from a different era, beautiful, mysterious, expensive. I slipped it over my head, expecting the Royal Reserve Police Service to arrest me for theft from the Earth kind charge. The necklace reached my belly button. I tucked the cold, mud encrusted, necklace under my shirt, the locket pressing against my warm skin. Hearing the familiar galloping of the Royal Reserve Police Service, there familiar steps behind me, I yelled "just tying my laces" not wanting my neck controller to ping with a warning. I'd already had two warnings this year. A third ping in as many months and I'd land in the bullpen with the other drifters. I continued walking home, checking behind me every so often, anxious someone already knew about my secret find. Once home, in my candle lit, windowless room, I brought the necklace out of my shirt. I smiled as I looked at my cherished treasure. Holding the locket, My imagination led me to a vision, one of love, admiration, and wealth. Prying the mud encrusted locket open, on the left side I found an inscription 'Enid, be the star that never fades... Love Ross' on the right side, a picture faded, black and white , dirty, an unknown face erased from its time in the ground.
By Petunia5 years ago in Futurism
Touch-Starved
When you spill a glass of juice on your carpet, you usually take a breath and figure out how to clean it up. When your house is flooded with juice… go ahead and tell me you don’t think about burning the whole thing down.
By Bonnie Joy Sludikoff5 years ago in Futurism
It's O.K.
“It’s o.k.” I mumbled the words eyes fixed on the letters I had scratched into the bark less tree in front of me with brittle broken nails. The rasped breathing of some maddened monstrous beast disappeared into the curl of mutilated plant life. My eyes turn in its direction waiting for the dark shape to fade, my deteriorating mind repeating in circles the same thing over and over, “It’s o.k.” the letters manifesting before me even in mangled shapes from leaf and branch.
By Jo May5 years ago in Futurism
Plantopia
Lush, bright, light and dark greens fill my retinas as I scan over the area before me, the place once known as the Sahara Desert. What was once sand, now an endless field of green consumed by millions of cacti bar one small section in the centre. Twenty square miles of unchanged desert. The only area on earth where humans still thrive.
By Kelly Butcher5 years ago in Futurism