science fiction
The bridge between imagination and technological advancement, where the dreamer’s vision predicts change, and foreshadows a futuristic reality. Science fiction has the ability to become “science reality”.
Tales of the Nightingale
The Calypso was roughly 1/50th the size of the Elizabeth, the derelict was massive. There were was debris floating around the hull, but no sign of a fight. No hull fractures, plasma burns, or anything to indicate another ship engaged them. There were docking ports fore, aft, gaining access wasn’t the problem, it was the nebula; the ionized gasses were mucking up the calypso’s sensors that seemed to create life sign readings that were there and then gone again.
By Michael G Dick5 years ago in Futurism
Greener, Cleaner, Meaner
The readout on the digicurrency display in the mall restroom stall played a happy little diddy. Soft and curly animated poo characters gleefully danced as they sung a cute little song in gratitude to her service to a greener, cleaner environment.
By Made in DNA5 years ago in Futurism
After the Before
Still, matte black sky encompassed the dome. The air was so thick it was tangible. Uncomfortable, almost suffocating; like an intrusive embrace from your parents’ acquaintance they call friend, who remembers when you were a baby. A baby. What a strange thought. When was the last time anyone saw a baby? My mind begins to creep to the place I have locked and sealed away for sanity and survival’s sake. And then I feel it. The air is not so still anymore. A faint humming can be picked up if you’re very quiet. You can almost feel the buzz. It was getting close. My fingers automatically begin to twist and turn the heart-shaped locket around my neck. The one keepsake I have from the time before. My penance; a blessing and a burden. Tethering me to a past that no longer makes sense for the world, grounding me to the present I cannot escape. Time to move.
By Ariana Simonetti5 years ago in Futurism
A Matter of Minutes
Lifelockets don’t come off by accident. They don’t rust, weather, or oxidize; they endure even after teeth and bones decay. They can withstand gas leaks, nuclear explosions, and dips in Earth’s few remaining lakes, murky brown from chemical waste.
By K.Hartless5 years ago in Futurism
The Groundling
My name is Terra, it means Earth. That is the stuff deep below the surface of our planet. I am a Groundling, and, I think, since Mother died…the last one. My people have always been Groundlings. I used to ask my parents why we were the only ones who did not have the ability to fly and live in the sky with all the other people, they always had the same answers. Mother would always seem to change the subject. Father was my teacher.
By Susan Steele Warren5 years ago in Futurism
Once Upon a Star
Camilla groaned and sat up, her old bed creaking under her weight. Though she wasn't overly heavy, she also wasn't skinny. But she was a collector of antique items, specifically from the 21st century, and earlier. She now wore what had been a 'nightgown' from the 20th century, and she loved the way it felt on her tired and callused body.
By Jaina Maternowski5 years ago in Futurism
Huh, That's Weird
Dr. Renault couldn’t help feeling the excitation of discovery in this moment. The most monumental discovery of the Coronal Satellite-station was this, the thing which it seems will inevitably destroy the multi quadrillion dollar project. It wasn’t the craft’s remarkable system of salvaging energy from the star it orbited so close to. As it passed through the corona, the heat was far too intense to try to harvest energy from, as such it drew induction from the star’s turbulent magnetic fields themselves. The material science and advanced plasma shielding used had takes decades to develop. The device shot through the solar system on an elliptical orbit, only briefly passing through the corona close enough to take its measurements.
By Dane Sullivan5 years ago in Futurism
Forest One
New York, the year is 2125, level 165 in central district. A sharp, stabbing headache accompanied a slow emergence into consciousness. The awareness of lasts night heavy drinking became painfully obvious with the first glimpse of an empty whiskey bottle in bed next to him. Slowly his eyes started to close with a flickering image of more pleasant dreams, sun kissed water arising in his mind. BEEEEEP BEEP! The mandatory 6am alarm can be heard across the 50-bedroom 1 flat complex and the stacked up adjoining complexes. His fellow government computer coders are all risen by the government call to work as it were. The rooms technological operating system is activated with an artificial sun rising over the large windows of which only grey toxic smog can be seen. Coffee is vended up through a hole in the bedside table, alongside the post, the day’s work briefing and some cigarettes.
By Miles Finlay5 years ago in Futurism
