Sci Fi
Diplomatic Etiquette and the Alien Menace
Welcome to the Exterran Federation Guide to Human-Kro'dyl Relations. Perhaps you are reading this because you are an Envoy considering a xenodiplomatic post, or a businessman seeking practical advice on alien relations, or a member of the public curious about this strange new species. The members of the Kro'dyl Dominion have a reputation for belligerence, but they are also a species marred by cruel and inaccurate rumors as well as simple cultural misunderstandings. These guides are intended to set the record straight on this species while also helping the reader navigate their culture with caution and sensitivity.
By Andrew Johnston3 years ago in Fiction
Bye Y'All
Bye, Y’all Cryogenics was not Rachel's field of research at the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda, Maryland. Her specialty was pediatric oncology, and she was lead researcher on a study of triggers for childhood cancers hoping that better understanding of those triggers could lead to effective interventions to forestall the disease. But today Rachel was across from NIH at the National Library of Medicine accessing all the information they had on cryogenics.
By Cleve Taylor 3 years ago in Fiction
The Phoenix Variant
The Phoenix Variant House mice are all pretty much the same, so I will call this all important mouse, "Mouse". On this particular day Mouse was foraging for food in the waste from the Phoenix Veteran's Administration Hospital when she came upon a tasty bit. Unfortunately, this tasty bit was tainted with the Covid-19 virus, which had come from an unlucky veteran who had served his country in Korea only to meet his demise from a virus invisible to the human eye.
By Cleve Taylor 3 years ago in Fiction
Waiting to Go Home
Looking down on the surface of the old Mother Earth, we are coming up to Extraction Zone 401. The latest band of extracts are being rounded up by the Dollarzen Troops. When it is their time, you see them run to and fro much like mouse scattering and scurrying from their captors.
By Shahnee Hunter3 years ago in Fiction
SEARTH
Day 3650 of SEARTH I’ve done everything to accomplish simply staying alive. But I feel like I’m done. I’m alive, but am I living? I’ve been so busy staying alive and helping other “Leftovers” survive. So busy, being a human who refuses to melt. Up until today I never questioned being a leftover. I fancied myself a tad stale and tough, but well seasoned and still useful. I've saved my share of lives. Useful. But today or yesterday, I lost my hearts. And that may be the cherry on top of this melted shit sundae we’ve been calling, survival. My own personal dealbreaker. I'm unsure if I still care to be useful.
By Dayna Clark3 years ago in Fiction
A Baker’s Dozen Faberge Eggs
As the Flying Dutchman approached the central courtyard of the Russian Gatchina palace, Captain Hook trained his spyglass upon a central window above the fountain and focused it on the grand table displaying the collection of Faberge eggs. “That there’s our target mates.” he shouted. The ship landed in the center of the courtyard, on either side palace guards rushed to man rows of cannons that lined the walls facing the sides of the ship. “Drop anchor.” Captain Kidd was heard to say. The massive anchor dropped from the side of the ship digging deep into the finely trimmed lawn of the courtyard. By this time the palace guards on either side of the ship were loading gunpowder and cannon balls into the lines of cannons trained on the mysterious interloping vessel. “Man the cannons.” Jack Sparrow shouted at the crew. Several skeleton crew members jumped into the gold-framed seats attached to the cannons in the gun rooms. Atop each cannon there were small gold framed cages with tiny whale oil lamps in one corner and a hovering pixie chained to the opposite corner. The pixies looked on in fright anticipating the battle to come. A dull silence drifted across the courtyard as a bird of prey circled above. The bird narrowed it’s gaze and spotted the skeletons manning the ship. In it’s confusion it let out a screech breaking the calm. On one side of the ship a Russian commander shouted “Fire!” On the other side his counterpart shouted the identical command. Rows of cannons on either side of the ship unleashed cannon ball after cannon ball at the ship as musketeers knelt and fired their long guns, quickly replaced by backups standing behind them. The cannon balls struck the sides of the pixie dush covered ship and cracked like walnuts then fill to the ground doing no harm. Long John Silver held high his sword and shouted “All right me hearties, it’s a fight they be want’n, attack.” One of the skeleton crew members in the gun room shouted “You heard the Captain. Fire!” The cannon gunners swung round on their seats and pressed the triggers on the steering wheel like handles mounted on the backs of the cannons. The whale oil lamps flared and the pixies responded in terror hopelessly struggling to avoid the glow and heat of the flames. As they did pixie dust fell into funnels mounted on the base of their small cages. That caused the cannon balls to shoot from the cannons in blinding speed sparkling and followed by trailing streaks of lightning. The balls landed in the midst of the palace cannoneers sending cannons and guard flying in all directions. When the rows of the palace defenses had been shattered the Jolly Roger shouted “Ok maties, to the palace and fetch me them eggs.” On either side of the ghost ship planks were lowered and teams of skeleton crews charged off the ship and headed forward towards the central palace where they rounded the great fountain and charged their way into the main palace entrance. They ran through the main entrance way and charged up each side of the symmetrical staircase. Captain Hook on one side and Blackbeard on the other sweeping aside all guards that attempted to stand in their way. They divided and charged around the balcony that ringed the main entrance way meeting at the entrance of the central display room where the priceless treasure awaited. Blackbeard took a musket handgun from his belt and aimed it at the double doorway then fired. A small bolt of lightning run from it exploding the doors leaving only splinters where they had stood. Central in the room was the grand display table with over a dozen Faberge eggs on various styled mounts. In fount of the table were the palace’s last line of defense, sword welding elite palace guards with the mad monk Rasputin in the center waving a tall staff in the air. “By the power of the ancient forces you will not pass.” He shouted. Captain Hook and Blackbeard traded looks at each other. Captain Hook shouted “There be our treasure mates, charge.” The elite palace guard engaged in a sword fight with the skeleton crewmen. However, their metal swords were no match for the pixie dust enhanced swords and shields used by the pirate crew. The only one left standing was Rasputin in his long dark robe and staff. “He be mine.” Stated Captain Hook as he replaced his sword in his belt. He and Rasputin circled each other preparing to strike. Rasputin let fly blow after blow from his long staff. Captain Hook fended off each blow with his razor shape golden hook. Captain Hook charged and parried sending Rasputin stumbling back towards the large central window overlooking the courtyard. Rasputin attempted another blow from his staff. Captain Hook dodged then stepped on the staff pinning it to the floor. Rasputin looked up into the empty eye sockets of Captain Hook’s skull. “Got ye.” Was the last thing he heard before feeling himself being lifted by hand and hook and thrown headfirst through the window. The captain’s hook had snagged on Rasputin’s long robe and it remained behind as Rasputin landed in the fountain below with nothing but his shame and long underwear. As the Captain freed his hook of the wayward garment, he shouted “Collect me them golden eggs, a long voyage back to Treasure Island we have. And be lively about it.”
By Jesse B. Carlisle3 years ago in Fiction
A Hidden Treasure
In the far back corner of the attic, the shoebox was hidden under the insulation. Inside were memories from another time. Olivia was no longer the girl who once dreamed of sharing the momentos with her next generation. Somewhere along the line she had become a woman who did what she had to in order to survive.
By Kelly Horne3 years ago in Fiction
AI Topia
AI Topia There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Today those few that are left sleep quietly deep within the caves of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Today mankind has far more to fear from science than they ever had to fear from fire breathing carnivorous flying reptiles.
By Cleve Taylor 3 years ago in Fiction
Xilah
She opened her hand. Sitting in her palm, the newfound trinket glinted a soft yellow in the dappled morning light of the forest. It’s a sign, surely, she said to herself. I’m nearly there. She pressed her thumb, dirty and lined black with grime, onto the smooth metal, crafted in a strange shape she had never seen before. A symbol, she guessed. It must have a special meaning, to carry such treasure inside. She lifted the chain on which it hung and pulled it over her head, the artifact resting gently against her heart as she walked onward.
By A M Portman3 years ago in Fiction
Procreation
Procreation Birth characteristics are no longer a matter of chance in the 2070s. In these days of manipulation of the human genome, bad DNA has been filtered out, and better or different DNA added to embryos so that the Government HR (Human Resources) Administration can ensure the appropriate mix of people to keep the country running at full efficiency. The HRA can create just the right number of scientists, athletes, drone workers, and artists by clicking on a few icons and sending algorithms to the many cloning and embryo development centers around the country.
By Cleve Taylor 3 years ago in Fiction
B. Graves: Zombie Slayer
Entry 1: They say when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. I wonder if that’s true for the half living or what some might describe as the undead. Did their lives play out like a movie before their eyes as the turned? Or are they constantly watching the mistakes they made on repeat as they wander the wasteland? Well, there’s only one way to find out.
By Anthony Herrington3 years ago in Fiction