Featured Story
Recent Stories
Stories by Topic
News
Enter any portion of the author name or story title:
small-go-arrowsearch
Sign up for free daily sci-fi!
  Subscribe to Daily Science Fiction
your email will be kept private
Breaking News
Get a copy of Not Just Rockets and Robots: Daily Science Fiction Year One. 260 adventures into new worlds, fantastical and science fictional. Rocket Dragons Ignite: the anthology for year two, is also available!
Kindle Edition
Kindle Edition
DSF stories are available in monthly digests for Kindle!
DSF for Kindle
Publish your stories or art on Daily Science Fiction:
Submit your story
Check story status
Stories
Everything we've published! Click on a topic to read...

Science Fiction
Aliens (66 stories)
Biotech (37)
Clones (14)
 
Fantasy
Fantasy (50)
 
Hither & Yon
Humor (20)
 
Date Order
Not just rockets & robots...
What is Science Fiction?
"Science Fiction" means—to us—everything found in the science fiction section of a bookstore, or at a science fiction convention, or amongst the winners of the Hugo awards given by the World Science Fiction Society. This includes the genres of science fiction (or sci-fi), fantasy, slipstream, alternative history, and even stories with lighter speculative elements. We hope you enjoy the broad range that SF has to offer.
close






art by Liz Clarke

Godshift

The Numbers Quartet is a collaboration between Aliette de Bodard, Nancy Fulda, Stephen Gaskell, & Benjamin Rosenbaum

Aliette de Bodard lives and works in Paris, where she has a day job as a Computer Engineer. In her spare time, she writes speculative fiction--she is the author of the Obsidian and Blood trilogy of Aztec noir fantasies, and her writing has been nominated for a Hugo Award, a Nebula Award and the Campbell Award for Best New Writer. Visit aliettedebodard.com for more information.

Nancy Fulda is a Phobos Award winner, a Vera Hinckley Mayhew Award recipient, and a two-time Writers of the Future finalist. Her near-future space exploration story, "That Undiscovered Country," was jointly honored by Baen Books and the National Space Society. Nancy's writing has appeared in Asimov's, Apex Digest, Strange Horizons, Clarkesworld, and many others. Her web site is nancyfulda.com.

Stephen Gaskell has published fiction in Interzone, Nature, and Clarkesworld, amongst other places. His SF novella, "Strata", a high-tech thriller set in the sun's chromosphere, co-written with Bradley P. Beaulieu, author of The Winds of Khalakovo, has just been released through Amazon and B & N. He is currently working on his first novel, a near-future SF tale set in Lagos, Nigeria. More of his work and thoughts can be found at stephengaskell.com.

Benjamin Rosenbaum lives near Basel, Switzerland with his wife Esther and his children, Aviva and Noah, who demand logic puzzles, classic rock, and childrens' suffrage . He's recently become Swiss, which means of course that he is on the board of a club (in his case, a little synagogue). The Swiss have a deep reverence for clubs; they consider them the backbones of democracy, and the constitutional "right to assemble" actually translates to "the right to form clubs". No lie. His website is benjaminrosenbaum.com.
Infinity: unlimited extent of time, space, or quantity. The quality of being infinite--symbol ∞.

God acted on September 13, 2014.
Teenaged brothers had shot up an elementary school in southern California, decimating the classrooms and brandishing semi-automatic weapons. They herded teachers and children into the wire-fenced schoolyard, shouting demands in the face of an impromptu negotiator. A SWAT team was on the way.
The negotiator, a balding administrator with crooked spectacles, must have said the wrong thing. One of the gunmen lurched forward and slammed his foot against the administrator's gut, dropping the older man to his knees. Gripping his weapon with both hands, the teenager trained the gun's muzzle on the administrator's head.
For an instant the world seemed frozen. Black-rimmed clouds swirled against the heavens.
A deafening thunderclap rattled the buildings as twin lightning bolts arced from the angry sky. Flashes of electricity etched the swing sets and flat-roofed buildings in stark lines of glare and shadow. The teenagers fell to the ground, guns thrown from their fingers, wisps of smoke curling from their skin.
They were not breathing.
175 meters beneath the Franco-Swiss border, in the bowels of the Large Hadron Collider, Ilyona Varga watched the breaking news story on her laptop. The fading rolls of thunder prickled her skin even through the tinny speakers. On the GRID console behind her, Dr. Pierre Lefebvre stared, fascinated, at the hypnotically flaring dots that would tell him whether he and his research team had produced the world's first experimental validation of string theory.
"There!" he snapped his fingers and waved in Ilyona's direction. "T plus 2:57:05. Note the time. We might have something."
Ilyona committed the numbers to memory and stood, unable to contain her restless energy. The feeling was back again, a vague sense of wrongness that had permeated each of their research runs over the past three days. It was a fleeting, tentative thing, hard to put your finger on; like walking into a familiar room and finding all the furniture moved one inch to the right. Ilyona paced, her fingers twining restlessly at the tip of her long dark ponytail.
She stopped next to Pierre and said: "We must end the research. We cannot perform another run."
"Hm?" Dr. Lefebvre's eyes did not stray from the console. 119 seconds of luminosity left.
"The news. Something strange is happening."
"Coincidence. People get struck by lightning all the time."
"The other events, were they also coincidence? Bengal tigers attacking drug dealers? Bank robbers stricken with stomach cramps? Over the past three days, there have been 165 cases of criminals brought to justice by natural forces." Ilyona tapped the newspaper lying discarded next to Lefebvre's coffee. "And all of them, every last one, occurred during one of our five-minute luminosity peaks."
"There! 4:13:01. Check it during the analysis."
"Pierre, have you been listening to me?"
"Are you serious, Ilyona? Cancel an international research effort that took four years to arrange? Give up the search for the extra dimensions predicted by string theory, just because a series of absurdities occurred while we were accelerating particles?"
Ilyona bit back a sharp remark. It wasn't smart to snap at your thesis advisor. Especially not when you were sleeping with him to make sure your name actually ended up on the research papers. Irritated, she left Pierre to his flashing pixels and continued prowling the room.
On the news stream, a pudgy woman had fallen to her knees, thanking God for miraculously saving her little boy's life.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have just provided experimental validation for string theory." Pierre tossed the charts he'd been examining onto the table and smiled at the jubilant whoops from his research team.
Ilyona, he noticed, did not join the applause, choosing instead to straighten the mound of disordered printouts in front of her. She didn't seem to have discussed her concerns with the other grad students, which was a mercy. He didn't have time for superficial nonsense.
He watched Ilyona fidget with her necklace, sliding the crucifix back and forth along the chain. He probably should not have slept with her. They always got arrogant afterwards. But he had such a weakness for students who were so obviously dazzled by his brilliance.
And he was brilliant. He had practically proven string theory, and it had only required half of their scheduled time at the Collider. He could use the remaining runs to refine the search, uncurl more than one dimension at a time....
He stopped, frowning.
Unfurling the dimensions had been Ilyona's idea. String theory predicted that space-time encompassed ten or more dimensions, most of them curled up so tightly as to be unobservable. Even the Large Hadron Collider was unable to generate enough energy to perceive them. Ilyona--Ilyona had first suggested using M-brane topologies to uncurl localized segments of higher-order dimensions--but only because she'd been steeped in his research and enlightened by their conversations. He, Pierre Lefebvre, was the mastermind behind this breakthrough.
Ilyona caught up to him in the hallway after he'd dismissed his students for lunch. "We have our evidence," she said. "The results from today's run will probably earn you a Nobel prize. So we don't need to do another one."
"Ilyona, if this is about that nonsense on the news..."
"Do you believe in God, Pierre?"
"What kind of a question is that?"
"Because if you'd ever believed in Him--really believed--you'd have asked yourself, eventually, why He allows horrible things to happen in this world. You'd have asked yourself how God can let children suffer; why He doesn't come down and do something about it."
"Well, according to every religious nut on a soap box, He did something about it today."
"Yes. He stopped wrongdoers in the act of doing wrong. But those teenagers were victims, too, Pierre. Or do you suppose they would have terrorized that school even if they'd led peaceful, affluent lives in which no one ever mistreated them?"
"I'd say it's a pity your God didn't intervene earlier. He could have prevented the whole incident."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Ilyona said. "Look. This morning's paper: Two school girls suffered acute asthma attacks while cheating on a math test. Four minutes later, in a different country, a father was struck by a meteor while yelling at his son. It all happened during the luminosity peak. During those five minutes, somehow, God punished all sinners."
"Co-occurrence does not imply causality, Ilyona. People see what they want to see, and that fluke with the lightning bolts got everyone riled up. When a man falls dead in the street, it's not hard to find something he'd been doing wrong five minutes earlier."
Ilyona took a deep breath. "There's more."
Pierre raised an eyebrow.
"I've been going over the GRID results from the other colliders. Yesterday, at exactly the same time as our research run, other scientists' research went awry. They think the disparity in their numbers is a measurement error, but look--" she held out a sheaf of graph paper covered with scribbles--"All of the results agree with each other if we assume a change in the generally accepted physical constants."
Pierre's brows drew downward, but he grabbed the papers and began flipping through Ilyona's notes. "Physical constants don't change. That's why they're constants."
"Well, yesterday, they did. For exactly five minutes, the gravitational constant decreased by 0.003 × 10−11. The speed of light increased by 512 meters per second. And the weak nuclear force appears to have fluctuated, as well."
"Preposterous." But Pierre could not take his eyes from the scratchy rows of numbers.
"Now do you understand why we must stop the experiment?"
"No! This is surely a miscalculation, but if it isn't... Well, if it isn't, then it's a scientific achievement even greater than we'd hoped." He kept looking at the numbers. "You may be on to something here, Ilyona. We must continue to investigate."
To Pierre's surprise, his student ripped the papers from his hands and tossed them on the floor. "There's something bigger going on here than our careers, Pierre. It's possible that, by uncurling the high-order dimensions, we've actually changed the nature of the universe. The implications are--"
"You think this is just about being the first one to write a research article? You think I am so small and petty-minded? Fine. Believe that if you wish, but the research will continue."
Pierre strode away without giving her a chance to reply.
Arrogance. They were all so blasted arrogant.
He spent the afternoon reproducing Ilyona's research. She'd miscalculated the change in the gravitational constant by 0.001 x 10−11, but her other numbers seemed accurate. Sometime after midnight, he put down his pen and stared toward the ceiling.
String Theory was the search for the atom all over again—the infinitely small; the unobservable item responsible for the behavior of reality. Pierre had devoted his life to it.
And now, in his genius, it appeared he had discovered far more. For millennia, man had struggled to comprehend the structure of the universe. Now, for the first time, he had the power to manipulate it.
The possibilities were astounding.
Out in the hallway, a newscast prattled about angelic manifestations, dramatic and unexpected weather patterns, and a ninety-five year old man who had spontaneously combusted during a court hearing; presumably because he had been bearing false witness.
Pierre could not hold back the smile that pulled at his lips. Well, well. Perhaps God really was reacting to the famous Dr. Lefebvre's experiments.
But if so, it was only because He was jealous.
Ilyona had not slept. By the time she gathered with the other students to observe the next Collider sequence, her heart was hammering like a rabbit's.
Along the Collider's 27-kilometer ring, 1600 superconducting magnets flared into life, hurling protons at velocities only 3 meters per second slower than the speed of light. And it was back again: the sense of wrongness, as if all the light in the room suddenly came from a different direction. Instinctively, Ilyona reached for her crucifix. Her lips shaped the words of the Lord's prayer. As she recited the third line, an overwhelming Presence filled the control room. Roiling, energy-laden words seemed to crash through her body.
I AM HERE.
Ilyona drew in a staggering breath. It was the Voice of God as she had always imagined it. Powerful. Burning. Like the rush of a thousand waterfalls or the breath of a hurricane.
The rest of the team jolted at the Voice, heads whirling. Feng Shao's coffee mug shattered against the floor. Even Pierre glanced away from the GRID console.
Mike Lanston brushed at his clothes, wide-eyed. "What in the name of G--"
Ilyona slapped a hand over his mouth, lest he take the Lord's name in vain and end up dead of a heart attack. 'Fear of God' did not begin to describe her emotions.
Releasing the crucifix had disrupted her prayer. The Presence withdrew as quickly as it had come.
They watched the rest of the run in breathless silence.
Protons raced.
Around the planet, shoplifters lost their hands. Adulterers expired. Toddlers played, unharmed, with poisonous serpents.
And Ilyona Varga finally understood what they'd done.
"I don't know what you're all so upset about," Pierre said, clasping his hands behind his head. "The way I see it, you religious-types have spent the last 4,000 years asking God to meddle in human affairs." He spread his hands. "Well, you got your wish."
Ilyona shook her head. "It's not right. It's terribly, terribly wrong, and it must stop."
The other grad students clustered behind her, pale-faced. It could not have been easy for her to convince them to turn against him. Most of them weren't even convinced of Ilyona's latest theory.
But Pierre was.
There was a dizzying perfection in it. If one supposed that God existed within the fabric of the Universe--was the Universe, for lack of a better description--and if one used the Large Hadron Collider to alter the physical constants that governed the Universe...
Then one must, of necessity, have also altered the nature of God.
Mind-shattering.
"The experiments must stop," Ilyona said with conviction. "We are going to the management of CERN. We will tell them what we have observed, and we will ask them to shut down the collider."
Lefebvre laughed. "Stop trembling in your shoes and consider what we've done. God, the Almighty, the Infinite Being, has been changed by the slight unfurling of a hidden dimension. Mankind has become the master of his own fate!"
Lefebvre was pacing now. Agitated; almost euphoric.
Ilyona said: "You don't understand because you have never believed. The being that manifests during our research runs is not the God I have always worshipped. It doesn't care about perfecting human souls. It doesn't even care about justice. In that sense, it's a lot like you, Pierre."
She filed past Lefebvre and into the hallway, followed by the clumping tread of the other students. Pierre stared after them in subdued astonishment.
Well, there was just no pleasing some people. How like the petty masses, to plead for God's intervention and then complain when He took action.
A shame that the changes brought on by the Collider's measurements were so fleeting. Ilyona's M-brane manipulations were only able to uncurl high-order dimensions in tiny, highly-localized areas, rather like letting down the hem in just one corner of a jacket.
Pierre froze.
But perhaps a corner of the jacket could be permanently creased. If he raised the energy output and adjusted the alignment of the magnetic fields....
He checked his watch. The next luminosity peak would occur in twelve hours. Highly unlikely that Ilyona and her student protesters would be able to navigate the layers of upper management before then.
To be the man who changed God....
Chortling, Pierre hurried to his computer console and adjusted the dynamics of the next research run.
The End
This story was first published on Wednesday, March 21st, 2012


Someone once asked me why the God I believe in doesn't intervene more often in human affairs. This story grew out of my attempt to imagine a God that did so.

- Nancy Fulda

RATE THIS STORY
Please click to rate this story from 1 (ho-hum) to 7 (excellent!):

Please don't read too much into these ratings. For many reasons, a superior story may not get a superior score.

5.4 Rocket Dragons Average, 6 Median

SHARE THIS STORY

JOIN MAILING LIST
Please join our mailing list and receive free daily sci-fi (your email address will be kept 100% private):  [join]
 
Copyright Info
Tell a Friend
Send Feedback
About Us