humanity

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

Tamina
Tamina loved walking through the city in the dead of night. After the cleaning crews wrapped up their last office tower, but before the early rising commuters made their way back into town, there was a small window of time where she could truly be alone. She’d walk along the sidewalks lost in thought, weaving around the skyscrapers and apartment buildings, businesses with the lights completely turned off, rarely seeing another soul. The only sound that reached her ears was the soft thud of her shoes hitting the pavement, occasionally drowned out by the far off hum of a solar panel inverter. Streetlights welcomed her into their soft glow every few hundred feet, and in between she’d look up and admire the vast sky of stars above her.
By Katie Dee5 years ago in Futurism
Fight or Flight or Freeze
The rations line was started to get restless. People had been lined up for hours waiting for their daily allotment of bread and cheese. Maggie looked across to the well. Drawn haggard faces looked back at her. Cheek and rib bones visible on the barely clothed children. Emaciated adults swaying in place, the dehydration and desperation their last tethers to the earth.
By Laura Buonpastore5 years ago in Futurism
The End is the Beginning
“It will be fun,” Command said. “He’s an expert,” Command said. “You wouldn’t want to retire before seeing Earth now, would you?” Command said.
By Laura Buonpastore5 years ago in Futurism
A Heart of Brass
The first time I met David Scott through the lens of my tight brown leather gasmask, he was clutching a heart-shaped locket made from the brass that he had stolen off the tops of garden taps. Carefully placing it in my grasp he claimed that he melted them down, by rubbing them on his denim jeans, causing such friction that they could be moulded into the locket. “Probably should’ve taken them off first. The bugger damn near burnt my dick off” He casually joked. In reality, it was probably the constantly exacerbating heatwaves that made this possible, but I didn’t want to argue with this unhinged individual as he started loading his Antique French Flintlock Pistol. “Fucked if I know, if this shit-cunt thing still fires” he glumly moaned staring off into the blood-red sky numb to the sweltering heat of the beating sun. “What’s in the locket?” I asked him as he continued to examine his Pistol. “My bloody heart and soul of course. Means more to me than you will ever know” he exclaimed winking through his grey leather gasmask. “I’ll be careful with it then”, I replied carefully plunging the locket into the pocket of my pants. I was a tall lanky man with red hair and a beard sweating through a black pinstripe shirt with brown pants and suspenders that I was seriously regretting while he was a short bald man sweating through his rose-patterned white shirt with grey pants. We were in the middle of what was usually a busy highway, but today dividing the concrete monoliths of financiers and clergymen was a long asphalt track. Crowds of masked and unmasked people surrounded the edges creating makeshift barriers between the real world and the sideshow about to unfold before their very eyes. The heat apocalypse slowly but surely, killing us all seemed not to worry them as they eagerly stared at the other side of the road where Michael Brent, stood tall and broad-shouldered, in his cream-coloured shirt with a blue paisley vest and blue leather gasmask. He too was fumbling with his Antique French Flintlock Pistol. This may seem like a peculiar sight to you, but such events are commonplace at the Wernham-Miffler Institute of Hydration and Air Filtration Insurance, where workplace disputes are solved by the only efficient means possible. Pistols at dawn. My name is Keith Malone, I chronicle apocalyptic events affecting the workplace, this is my personal account of the duel that transpired.
By Zac Rose5 years ago in Futurism
Strands of Time
Warm rain. A perpetual, light shower falling across the gormless landscape, on a day like any other. She had lost track of which it was. Her memory had been affected by malnourishment. It all merged into one like the colours smudged upon an artist’s palette.
By A.R. Lerwill5 years ago in Futurism
Doomsday
It’s been ten years since the pandemic broke out. The government thought they could cure everyone by putting a vaccine in the water supply, but it only made matters worse. It all started when big corporations like Wal-Mart started shutting down, followed by the oil companies, and we slowly started getting fewer and fewer shipments with supplies. Everyone started panicking trying to get food and water but they had no such luck, riots started breaking out all over the place with people fighting to survive. Many decided to stay and struggle make-do with the limited supplies that were left while the others chose to break free from society and go off on their own to survive off the lands. Few who saw this coming had prepared, they had seeds for farming and basic knowledge of how to make necessities. A few were a little over-prepared, they had their bunkers stocked so full of supplies they could barely move. A group of friends started a small Utopia for whatever survivors were left. Arron, who was the leader of the group; was around 5’4” with short brown hair with shaved sides, mellow hazel eyes, and a fit body with an eight-pack. David, he was the commander for the peace-keepers, he was tall around 6’4” and slimly buff with jet black messy layered hair with long bangs swept to one side, black-rimmed glasses, tattooed sleeves up and down his arms, one arm was themed with the Native American spirit animals and the other had a more nautical theme with a helm wheel in the middle of his forearm, and piercing blue eyes, the kind of blue that makes you think of the morning sky or the oceans in Cancun. And lastly, Milo was a search and rescue expert, the shortest of the bunch standing at 5’0” with round-rimmed glasses, dark brown hair the same style as David’s, and tattoos covering up a good amount of his body. David, Arron, and Milo were in a polyamorous relationship, and for their anniversary David and Milo pooled their money together and bought Arron a locket. The locket was 24k gold and shaped like a small heart with David and Milo’s pictures in it. That was all David had found one morning after she disappeared. “Milo!” He had run into Milo’s room after the discovery and shook him awake.
By David Skylark Magill5 years ago in Futurism
The Final Heart
“Dani, wake up. Time to get moving.” The quiet voice was enough to rouse her, but she didn’t move. Sleep hadn’t come easily- or at all, really.
By Emmie5 years ago in Futurism
Cancel Culture
Section 1 - The Post Apocalyptic Dystopia The sun rises slowly, again. The only time I have to myself. I spend it thinking thoughts of my own... thoughts punishable by death should they reveal themselves outside of my skull. Opinions of the human nature do not matter in society. Society is unified, I remind myself of this as I begin to smell the first drips of coffee brewing. 6:45 a.m. on the dot. Consistency makes for longevity.
By Patience Elizabeth Sterling5 years ago in Futurism
Dystopian
Dystopian by: Stephen Koons There is a woman breathing heavily, leaning over a garish red heart shaped locket. The time and place, Philadelphia in a harsh future, 2451. Her heart is beating quickly. There is little time to think about stress. Instead of whining and cursing her fortune there would be bullets to dodge and a man to find, one with a suitcase full of cash, and the only safe haven, a well funded night club run by Token Ellish.
By Stephen K Koons5 years ago in Futurism
The Bough that Breaks
The window was open just slightly enough to allow a faint breeze to flutter through Sam’s sheer taupe curtains. Her neighbor’s daphne odora shrubs seemed to great her with their sweet, inviting fragrance and for a second, with eyes closed, it felt like how things once were. How free and easy existing used to be.
By Kimberly J McGill5 years ago in Futurism
THE LOCKET AND THE BOOK
THE LOCKET AND THE BOOK He curled his fingers around the silver locket: it was heart-shaped. It was the only vestige of a time well past, that he currently had. That locket contained untold memories, untold years of life before the great crooning.
By Corey Lipow5 years ago in Futurism
Utopia
“I can’t explain. It was too horrible,” said the first person. “You should try. I’ve had enough adventures; I’m un-shockable,” the other replied, laughing contentedly, sinking lower into the bath.
By Rhys James5 years ago in Futurism