Sci Fi

The strand
The strand My name is Li Peng. My mother told me that we should be grateful to the corporations who had provided the money for our DNA bot insertion postponement and for our post bot scholarship iterations.
By Jim Kapetanos 5 years ago in Fiction
After We lost
The pale bony arm stuck out from the rubble like a barren flag pole. At first sight, I felt both drawn to it and disturbed by it. It seemed as though it were waving to me. Beckoning me to join it in the deep beyond.
By Ruth Teets5 years ago in Fiction
Nativity
Numerical religious equality was the commandment in New Jerusalem. Jews could not exceed Christians. Christians could not exceed Muslims.
By Leo Dis Vinci5 years ago in Fiction
Mankind's last hope
It was the year 2022. Most of us simply call it year 2. First a wild infection ravages the planet and wipes out nearly a third of the population. No nation has fully recovered from it even with vaccines being made available.
By DS5 years ago in Fiction
THE HEAD OF MARS
The Desolation Era began some 80 years ago when the technocrats and their transhuman agenda went terribly wrong, covering the Earth in masses of microwave radiation. They erected towers and covered society in millimeter waves, all in hopes of self-driving vehicles and connecting the last of humanity into the cloud.
By Julia Lindsay5 years ago in Fiction
Dream State
It was a really good dream. I was on the farm, I was a child again, we were in the field below the house and it was high summer. The grass was high and wildflowers were everywhere. I could hear insects buzzing. There was a dog playing, a young brown and white dog, leaping around in the grass. Thinking about it, I don’t know that dog. It wasn’t one of ours, but it seemed familiar in the dream. My grandmother was there, carrying a bowl of something. Feed for the hens, perhaps, I’m not sure. She was wearing a blue and white cotton dress, and had her stick. She had her hair up, as she used to sometimes. We were going down to the brook, the brook where Cleo used to drink and where she would stand in the shallow water in hot weather, in the dappled sunlight under the trees, flicking the flies away with her tail. I often saw dragonflies there.
By Jed Finn5 years ago in Fiction
The Existence of Anton
What has happened to this world, she thought, as she stared off into the corner of the room. Veirana had just been taught about the events leading to this desolate world, filling her with more questions than answers. The thought of her being the last person did not make sense to her. She grasped the back of her neck, battling the possibility of this fateful truth. What if there were more people out there? She contemplated. “There has to be more!” she exclaimed.
By Jason Smith5 years ago in Fiction
Finding Omena
EDIRIN dropped his hoe at the loud sound of a blast. He needed no soothsayer to tell him that it was a bomb blast. His farmland is about three kilometers from the Oru'ah community but the sound was so loud that he felt the vibration.
By Sarah F5 years ago in Fiction
Departure
The horns blew and everyone’s world froze. Billie watched as the coffee he had been delicately holding by the rim seemed to fall in slow motion before exploding all over the kiosk table and the white uniform he had pressed the night before as second transportation security officer. Numb to the heat, which was quickly soaking it’s way into his skin, he turned to look at the horn mounted on the 30 foot steel pipe near the exit. Like everyone of his generation, he had been taught since he was an infant what to do when the horns blew as they were now all across the city. But like cpr, stop drop and roll it is easy in the shock of the event itself to forget everything that matters for a split moment and so he looked down at his shirt then at the train platform before him.
By Lucas Parkes5 years ago in Fiction
Lessons in Loyalty
Only the feeling of Amber’s soft hand caressing the bulge of my thigh bleeding through the hole in my jeans could steady the shaking while we sped down the empty night road. As I glance in the rearview, I see the lights of the enforcers flashing in the distance. “Faster,” Amber shouts! But despite my lead foot, I can feel my old 3029 rustbucket beetle slowly coming to a halt. “Shit,” I muttered with a sigh of defeat I edged my beetle to the side of the road, “We aren’t going to make it …The battery is dead,” I regretfully announce.
By Mel C5 years ago in Fiction
The God of the Sun Burned Earth
When I turned twelve I got to meet him. It was a big event. The whole village gathered. We built a huge bonfire. We danced and sang, we drank and feasted.
By Cerys Latham5 years ago in Fiction
The Pigeon
The Pigeon Copyright2020 by Daniel S. Dechi On a warm summer day in the city’s public park, an elderly man sits on a wooden bench throwing bits of dry bread to his cooing pigeon friends. A confused, scrawny pigeon hobbles to join the flock. All of the other pigeons appear disturbed by this sickly looking bird, and abruptly fly the scene. The man seems a bit surprised by the flock’s sudden departure, but turns a smile to the afflicted pigeon, and feeds his new friend from the palm of his hand. The man inadvertently coughs, slightly startling the pigeon, but the feeding continues.
By Danny Dechi5 years ago in Fiction