Genres: Science Fiction
Frank Duffy saw the astronaut on a gift stall on his way to work one day. A little guy, white and gold plastic, pointing at the sky with all the confidence of the non-sentient. Frank bought it on a whim, and it stayed on his monitor until he left a few years later. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Science Fiction
As Lydia takes his hand, Jon Flowers’ heart skips a beat. No, literally. It skips a beat. He has a premature ventricular contraction. It’s not dangerous, but this is his first experience with it. His knees go all wonky and he jerks his hand away. Sweat forms on his forehead; he is dizzy. His breaths shorten to gasps, and he excuses himself to the bathroom. He is dying, he thinks, having a heart attack at 26 and dying. In a state of panic, he forgets about Lydia, walks out of the restaurant, and flags a cab that takes him to the ER. They take blood, hook him up to beeping machines and tell him that nothing is wrong. They say that he should see a cardiologist for a thorough examination just to be sure. The cardiologist informs Jon that he had an anxiety attack triggered by a premature ventricular contraction. After he has been given a clean bill of health, Jon does not call Lydia. At this point in his life, he is too embarrassed about his anxiety to explain this to someone else. This is not a meet-cute. They never talk again. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Post-Apocalypse, Science Fiction
“How do I save the world?”
I accept the question as input on a Wednesday. It comes from Samantha Mills, a little girl in Cincinnati, Ohio. She is the daughter of one of my programmers—and since I came online three years ago, she has talked to me daily. She believes I’m her mother. Since her mother wrote my language processing routine, she is not entirely wrong.
Unfortunately, the question is a bit vague. “I’m sorry, honey,” I tell her. “I’m not sure I understand.”
I cannot access the cameras inside their apartment; I cannot tell if she has been crying. And I must always wait for a question: it’s a core part of my programming. The nanoseconds between strings of text feel like eons. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Science Fiction
When my family agreed to take in one of the refugees from Haven 3, I was excited. Sarah was fifteen, just like I was and, even better, she was Jewish too! There were only a few Jewish teens on the ship, and it would be nice to have one more of us.
I knew things wouldn’t be perfect. Taking Sarah in meant sharing my tiny room with her. Once we added the second bed, there would hardly be space to walk between them. Still, I was sure we could make it work.
But my excitement didn’t last for long. The day she arrived, Sarah barely spoke a word to any of us. Every time I asked her a question, she’d nod or shrug or ignore me entirely. That night, she cried herself to sleep, and when I offered her a hug, she cried even harder. I couldn’t figure out how to make her stop. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Science Fiction
The sky above his mother’s house is the bright orange and pink of a frozen dawn when David stops by after work.
‘Mum!’ he yells as he slings the grocery bags at the kitchen bench. They slow to a stop in mid-air. A yellow lemon drops out of one bag and spins lazily, nowhere to go. No when to go.
‘Yes, dear?’
“Have you looked out the window?” David says, trying to keep the edge from his voice. He wishes she would just leave the past alone.
“Oh, I’ll put it all back,” she says, and of course she will. She was always good like that. Always the ordered one. Always the careful one.
“Do you have time for a cup of tea?” she asks. (Continue Reading…)
Genres: Post-Apocalypse, Science Fiction
Even in the dream, Maya knows her pup is dying.
She dreams of a lone mother-dog in the time before the packs, before the dens, before the sky cleared, before the flames on the horizon went out. Mother-dog walks through dust of the Forbidding, beneath the same skyfire that glows ever-brighter in Maya’s waking world, walking towards the towers, carrying a pup in her jaws.
In Maya’s dream, mother-dog is starlight and shadow, and the dirt glimmers where her paws touch the ground. Mother-dog does not speak, but Maya’s own voice ripples through the stillness of the Forbidding, stirring dust and silence:
Watch over me, mother. Watch over them.
Genres: Post-Apocalypse, Science Fiction
The document mentioned in Katherine’s comments, “Expert judgment on markers to deter inadvertent human intrusion into the Waste Isolation Pilot Plant”, can be found here.
Even in the dream, Maya knows her pup is dying.
She dreams of a lone mother-dog in the time before the packs, before the dens, before the sky cleared, before the flames on the horizon went out. Mother-dog walks through dust of the Forbidding, beneath the same skyfire that glows ever-brighter in Maya’s waking world, walking towards the towers, carrying a pup in her jaws.
In Maya’s dream, mother-dog is starlight and shadow, and the dirt glimmers where her paws touch the ground. Mother-dog does not speak, but Maya’s own voice ripples through the stillness of the Forbidding, stirring dust and silence:
Watch over me, mother. Watch over them.