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 Harvestman
In the green glow of emergency chemical light strips, Al Parsons crouched behind a shipment container in the underbelly of his ship. The solar receptors were damaged in transit and now the whole ship had gone dark. "No receptors, no power," Al thought to himself with a smirk. Above him, there were massive crashing noises but he had to force himself to ignore them and fix the problem at hand. He pried open the emergency restart shaft, it led deep into the internal workings of the Harvester-Class ship. Al jumped in without hesitation. Swinging onto a ladder, he grabbed the underside of the shaft and closed it as he descended. He reached the first maintenance level, disembarking into a greenish hall that seemed to endlessly stretch out to the left and right. Al ran full speed to his left, not knowing what to expect. "It could’ve been an asteroid. If it was I’m screwed." The only sound in the hall was his breathing, labored and in fast tempo with his feet. "If it’s just a short, I just might make it out of this." He ran for ten minutes before he reached the damaged area of the ship, there was no visible external damage. Al wiped sweat from his brow and took a few slow, deep breaths. "The air is getting stale, the oxygen levels are low." He found the nearest ladder and descended quickly. The second level housed the electronics. His footsteps echoed eerily as he accessed the supercomputer required to process data from the receptors. An echo reached him from the hall, faint sounds like voices. They’re in the maintenance shaft. Al checked the power to the computer, and found no visible damage.
By Eduardo Victor Garcia8 years ago in Futurism
The New Eden Project
I sat on my recently sterilized bed, waiting for the security warden to make his last rounds, finally the slot opens on my cell door and he spoke quietly, "Eat your dinner, starving yourself will not do anyone any favors, especially not for me." I saw in my mind how it was that he smiled in a odd way and gave me a calculating once over, but I wasn’t in a giving or polite mood. To anyone else he might be a handsome man, but to me he was a personification of my imprisonment. “Of course,” I thought, “Can’t have me keeling over can you? That would be such a loss.” The warden averted his eyes to the floor, hearing in his mind the words I projected into his conscious. He closed the slot, and went on to the next room, to check on the other “patient” beside of me.
By Serita Phillips8 years ago in Futurism
Speakeasy
CHAPTER I You see nothing, you hear nothing. You don’t scream if you’re hurt or dying. You obey. You stay on the path. You’re born and registered. You grow and learn. If you don’t follow, the nightly t.v. entertainment will be your televised execution. As a child you watch these and learn to never fall out of line. You’re given food, a home, a family, toys. If you disobeyed many parents would threaten you. They’d take you by the arm, point a rigid finger and ask,
By Emme Baumier8 years ago in Futurism
Why Genre Literature Deserves More Respect
Albert Einstein famously said that "imagination is more important than knowledge." What he meant is that if we are ever to discover anything, we first have to elaborate an hypothesis to test out, and that process relies on imagination. Additionally, what we know as a fact may change as soon as evidence shows otherwise, so knowledge is little more than a useful tool to be used as a stepping stone for our abstractions.
By Fabia Scali-Warner8 years ago in Futurism
Ad Boosters
RC looked like most other children his age, but he didn’t have a mother or father. He wasn’t an orphan, though. He was decanted from a vat, when he looked to be about six-years-old, fully formed and with all the knowledge most six-year-olds would have and a peculiar bump on the back of his neck containing the latest solid-state biometric chip. As soon as he was cleaned up and dressed, RC was given a plastic lunchbox and backpack both with a Royal Crown Cola logo emblazoned on both. His favorite colors were blue and red, just like colors of his clothes, his lunch box, his backpack, and all the notebooks and pencils in his backpack and the colors seen on the Royal Cola logo.
By Isaac Shapiro8 years ago in Futurism
What to Avoid When Writing Sci-Fi
It cannot be denied that science fiction is one of the hardest genres to write because you, the author, are creating entire planets from scratch. You are the Creator in the sense that you decide how people travel through space, what alien species exist in your universe, and what sort of scheme will potentially destroy the universe this time.
By Danielle McDougal8 years ago in Futurism
The Invasion
“Do you guys see that?” Ralph said to the others. He pointed to the water. The four of them were huddled around the table, overlooking Lake Douglas from the second floor screened porch, passing around a skunk. Phil Collins’ “In The Air Tonight” was playing in the background.
By Taylor Summers8 years ago in Futurism
Flaws
I'm running faster than I've ever run before. Zack is right beside me, as always. The police just found us. They've been after us for about 6 months since they found out we were flaws. What are flaws you may ask? We have special abilities. The police found out that we were flaws and we've been on the run ever since. The government thinks we are dangerous, we are not. But we don't have any influence these days.
By Raven Nope ;)8 years ago in Futurism
