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”.
The Hart School Experiment
9/8/2051 Dear Diary So today I got to my new school. It’s an all girls boarding school, The Hart School of Art. In Plymouth, Massachusetts. Which is pretty cool because my great great great great great grandfather, Harrison Shoesmith came here on the fucking Mayflower! I’m a history nerd so that’s cool to me. He married a native not long after he got here. He was a man of peace and love, not war and hate. He gave her this platinum heart shaped locket for their first anniversary, and remember this was back in the 1600’s! So that was a big deal. It was a big deal that he marrie a native and not someone else who’d come over from England or something. He didn’t care. He told her, as long as she kept that locket closed, good things would come from the New World…. Or so Ive been told but fast forward to now, I wear the locket that now. My mom gave it to me before I left California for here and said it would bring me good things as long as I kept it shut! Anyway. I think this locket is good luck. This school is like a caste surrounded by smaller castles. Like something out the old Harry Potter movies. I can’t believe I’m staying here and this is how I’m gonna start high school!!! The dorm assistant who brought me my room was almost too nice to me! She carried my bags for me to my room, and introduced me to my roommate Riley. She seems cool, she was reading this book when I walked in. She seems really nice but to herself. Which is how I am, so I’m sure we’ll get along. Classes start tomorrow I’m so excited to see what “Diverse Worlds” class is about. Ahhh, I digress. I’m gonna hit the sheets! Stay tuned for tomorrow diary!
By Harrison Cade5 years ago in Futurism
REMEMBER
REMEMBER. THOU ART DUST… Emmett was finding that sleep eluded him, and he yearned for it as a salvo, an escape from the putrid stench and the frequent, foul blasts of wind. There were few places to take cover these last few days (or had it been weeks?) as the squalls of fetid dust and debris had swept away most freestanding structures and every vehicle in the parking garage where he’d first taken shelter. For what was beginning to seem an eternity, his only release from the reality of terror and filth that encompassed him was in the hour or two when it seemed the atmosphere paused to regain its ferocity. Then, coiled into himself – ready to spring – he would sometimes manage to drown in a pool of his own exhaustion.
By Marie McGrath5 years ago in Futurism
Beautiful Ruination
“Where am I…..?” The whirring of metal rang in my ears and I had no way to stop it. I opened my eyes to see only a desolate room. Papers were scattered, dust had settled and there was a cloth over a mass on the ground. I felt my form shifting but then again…
By George Nelson5 years ago in Futurism
Any Star Trek
Star Wars is to Star Trek what milk is to coffee. We can surely do without the lactose-laden milk, but the coffee is too good to forego. We can watch both Stars as long as we realize that Star Wars is rooted in fantasy, and a rudimentary one at that (The Lord of the Rings is light years better), whereas Star Trek breathes scientific insight and discovery through space and time and also through our minds and hearts. I never cried in a Star Wars movie, but Star Trek gets me every time.
By Patrick M. Ohana5 years ago in Futurism
Tarnished
Tarnished Forward infantry unit 32B4, also known as Greg, trudged ahead in silence, only the crunching noises beneath his boots keeping him company. He had been assigned to scout grid 17, with the mission of finding and eliminating any remaining resistance forces.
By anthony marovitz5 years ago in Futurism
AFTERWARD
It was a quiet late afternoon in autumn when the two young women came up the dirt road, their worn boots dragging in the dust, their sore feet limping at every step. Both wore ragged military uniforms. One bore a dirty bandage wrapped around her eyes. The other young woman kept a gentle hold on the arm of the bandaged woman; she was clearly guiding her bandaged companion up the road. The house, with its clapboard porch, and hand-operated front yard water pipe, could be distinguished from the other New England homes in its area only in that the others were visibly abandoned.
By Robert Gulack5 years ago in Futurism
The World in 2030
My name is Jen, Genevieve for short, but it is hard to pronounce for a lot of Americans, so everyone just calls me Jen. The year is 2030, and the world has been permanently changed due to the electrovirus crisis of 2020. I was still a child when it happened. I was supposed to continue my college, but due to my father losing his job and my mother’s income not being enough to support our family, my college fund was used to support our family. My father was a head chef in a restaurant. At first the government told us that we would be allowed to reopen our restaurant after just two weeks. They told us that it was meant to “protect the medical system from collapsing” so we believed it and closed our restaurant to takeout only, for the “greater good”. Little did I know that we would lose our family home and be moved to a subsidized housing in the projects, and that I would have to get a retail job to save money for college and contribute to the family.
By Paloma D'Silva5 years ago in Futurism
The Heart-Shaped Locket
The AZ Corp drone buzzed into the hut, alarm blaring, but Ramma was already awake. She had eaten her portion of leftover cassava and cactus juice for the morning. She had swept every atom of sand from the hard stone floor. Now she was getting dressed into her work wear of brown hessian trousers and jacket with a hood to protect her bald head against the scorching sun.
By Lola Aylmer 5 years ago in Futurism
The Future of Peppers
Who would have thought that what I would miss the most wouldn't be my family, my friends, Krispy Kreme, or pedicures, but the Internet. Of course I miss my kids, but an intentional numbness has long taken over that grief. I had become accustomed to finding answers to my questions and answers to my boredom in one easy click. That is, up until about a decade ago. I miss the Internet, but don't grieve it. This allows the feelings to come through.
By Anna Zimmerman5 years ago in Futurism
