Tag: science fiction

Rehab

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Things got crazy at the party. Talia overdosed on longevity drugs and went into a coma.
We handed her off to the Sleeping Beauty Ward. They gave us an estimate of 80 years before she’d come out of it.
Eighty years?
They handed me the bill for her babysitting, and I scraped up most of it.
A kidney and some skin for burn grafts covered the rest.
That was 79 years ago. Vital signs say she’ll wake up soon.
Never did find anyone else, too old for her now.
I wrote one last note and walked to the termination center.

The Great Claw

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The Great Claw wobbles over our ravaged city.
Every now and then, it descends and grabs at a car or a building and yanks it up into the sky.
Invading the world wasn’t enough for the aliens, so they put it up there to torment us.
“The rest of the world is dead,” said the message. “But you’ll keep us amused while we extract the necessary isotopes for our next journey.”
Scientists at the university tried to come up with defenses, but The Great Claw ended those plans.
It rained bricks as the research center was hauled up… and up…

The Last Photograph

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The Conquest Museum on the Zagitz homeworld has many exhibits, but the most popular is the last remaining human DNA sample.
Drones guide their podlings to the guarded platform for a peek at the vial in magnetic suspension.
The thing is, that’s not the real sample. It’s just for display purposes.
Some claim that the real sample is in a research asteroid where the government is cooking up new batches of humans to stage fake invasions.
But the truth is, there’s no human DNA left. The humans were annihilated decades ago.
The conspiracy theory makes a good bedtime story, though.

What do we charge?

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What do we charge for a love potion?
Only ten bucks. They’re pretty cheap and easy to make, when you think about it.
Heck, the bottle costs more than the ingredients, which are just rainwater and a little salt.
This is why we try to have you drink these things in the store, or we ask that you bring the empty bottle when you want the antidote.
Why do we charge a thousand bucks for the antidote when the love potion costs only ten?
Because we can.
And based on how desperate people are, they’ll drink it out of anything.

Octoberville

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Jenny and I leave the turn-of-the-century town for the woods, watching for signs of Octoberville’s return.
It fades into existence at September’s end, and returns to the void after thirty-one days.
The buildings are worn and run-down, but comfortable.
The residents are the same, shabby but content, shambling around the paths from shack to shack.
Merchants bring food from the harvest.
“What happens when you go away?” I ask the mayor.
“Go away?” he says. “Octoberville doesn’t go away. What are you talking about?”
To them, October is all there is.
Just as to us, the century is always turning.

Paradise Packed

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All of the scientists agree: our species has passed the tipping point.
The ecosystems could no longer sustain our presence. Either our species went, or all species.
So, we took samples of everything, extracted the DNA, and packed them all into stasis pods.
Some of them we’ll launch into space as permanent memorials to our world.
Others will stay in orbit, ready to return when our planet had recovered from our mistakes.
We released the retrovirals at dawn, watching the horror spread across the planet from our bunker.
Then, we opened the champagne, toasted Eden, and swallowed the black pills.

I can’t complain

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How are things going?
I can’t complain.
No. Really. I can’t complain.
My doctor got fed up with my constant complaining, so he suggested an experimental treatment.
I now have a microchip in my head that will stop me when I complain.
I absolutely love this thing. I don’t complain about anything anymore.
Life is good when you have no complaints.
Oh, sure, I have problems, mind you. Life’s not perfect, but instead of complaining about them, I try to resolve them.
Usually, I do.
But when I don’t, I get out my chainsaw and fire it up.

The Pipes

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No matter where you dig, you’ll eventually reach The Pipes.
We’re miles from where the City Of Steel used to be.
Before civilization collapsed.
And yet, out here, there are pipes.
There are no markings on them to identify what flowed through them.
Nobody can break them open, either.
Some are warm, and others sweat water when the rains don’t come.
Maybe they were part of an irrigation project?
As long as crops grow here and they don’t come up toxic, we are safe.
Sow the seeds, curse the ancestors for their wickedness, and wait for harvest.
We will survive.

Promises

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The Promises Van: a steel hulk raised up on massive wheels.
It rolls from neighborhood to neighborhood, collecting promises between citizens.
Nobody knows what Central Authority does with the promises.
Some say they keep a file on everyone making promises and what they’re promising.
Others say they’re planning a celebration soon, and the Promises Van will delivering on the promises.
But the Promises Van never goes to Central Authority. It just goes in a circuit, over and over.
It never opens. It never stops.
It just rolls.
That’s when I realized: it’s just a huge robot that runs on paper.

For Your Eyes Only

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Sometimes, a document is too secret to be marked TOP SECRET.
So they make those For Your Eyes Only.
The document only appears to the recipient. To everyone else, they don’t see anything.
Not even a sheet of paper. It’s printed using a quantum ink and paper from phase-controlled wood pulp that only activates one unique set of sensory-processing neurons.
The problem is that when an agent resigns, you don’t know it they’ve destroyed all their documents.
We could surgically remove their eyes, but that would be cruel, leaving them completely blind.
So, as a mercy, we just kill them.