Science Fiction
Science fiction came of age during the cold war. For virtually it's entire existence, it's been easier than not to imagine manmade technology leading to cataclysm. Fortunately, our worst nightmares haven't come true, though we are a species dedicated to walking the tightrope in so many ways. Just as stories fall flat without conflict, modern humanity gets bored without courting extinction on an ongoing basis, we suppose. Definitely, a fertile ground for science fiction.
We began to burn the books, and Dad tried to kill himself.
Almost all of the extra furniture had been burned over the previous month, leaving the upholstery and padding from sofas and chairs heaped on the big bed in what used to be just Mom's and Dad's room. Me and Taylor stayed in that room all day since heat rises, and we wore so many layers of clothes that it was hard to go up and down the stairs. Anyway, with so many of the walls and rooms empty, the whole house echoed so their voices really carried from the downstairs library.
The skies were burning outside my window but I paid them no heed. During a break up, it is amazing how long it takes for information from the outside world to seep through. My phone had been ringing for days but I was in no mood to talk. When I finally noticed the storm outside it seemed fitting. As far as I was concerned it was pathetic fallacy.
I moped around the flat. Moping was all I had the energy for. I tried to do it without looking at things. Everything reminded me of her: the photos, the dirty dishes, the books, the posters. Everything. I noticed that the t-shirt I was wearing was one that she had brought me. I use her shampoo, so even my hair reminded me of her. I cut it off.
"You're welcome, caller," Elizabeth says, and disconnects the line. She leans back in her chair, her hands kneading the aching muscles in her neck.
One of the temps comes round with a tray, and she grabs a coffee from him with a grateful smile. The red light on her console flashes again. She hesitates, then presses the button to log herself out. She's been on for the last five hours straight, she can afford a five-minute coffee break.
And on the last day came the snow.
It took a moment to place the sound, because no one should have been making it in their house. It was the soft, rhythmic squeal of a mattress and the wheeming of a woman approaching a stifled climax. The sound sent an icy blast through Phoebe's stomach. She had begun to suspect, but only in the abstract. The shift to concrete was jarring.
He wouldn't humiliate her like this, would he? In this tiny house, with his mother home?
The bells of Strahov Monastery hadn't rung, I'm told, for over eighty years. Termites got into the thick wood beams some twenty-odd years before the building was boarded up and abandoned. Or maybe it was carpenter ants. Or maybe it was just dry rot. The details don't matter. What matters is that steel I-beams were set into the millennia-old wood and stonework and the ancient bells welded to them to prevent catastrophe.
I've seen them. There's no way they can ring.
"I see the acid-elms have a new predator," says Zina.
"Good," says Olesia, "Death to traitors."
The Children of Chiron sat silent in prayer as they waited for their holy leader Joshua to enter the temple. The red-robed zealots bowed their heads as they genuflected, making the crowded hall look like a roiling sea of flames. Rebekah looked around at the undulating crimson and wondered if she was in Hell rather than the portal to Heaven.
"Mary," she whispered to the woman seated next to her. "Mary, I had a dream last night for the first time in a long while. It felt so real; it looked so vivid, so beautiful. I dreamed--"
They announced the end of the world on Friday afternoon. Of course the apocalypse couldn't come on a Monday.
"What is it!?" Boy's eyes sparkled. "Is it anything?"
"Let me sit first, won't you?" I steadied myself with my good arm, and sat heavily on an Elder stone. "Let me see." I took the rectangular block from his grasp with both hands. It was lighter than I expected.
Disaster
Science fiction came of age during the cold war. For virtually it's entire existence, it's been easier than not to imagine manmade technology leading to cataclysm. Fortunately, our worst nightmares haven't come true, though we are a species dedicated to walking the tightrope in so many ways. Just as stories fall flat without conflict, modern humanity gets bored without courting extinction on an ongoing basis, we suppose. Definitely, a fertile ground for science fiction.
by Beth Cato
Published on Aug 18, 2011
by Toiya Kristen Finley
*out'er rims*, n. *1*. areas of continents flooded in 2014 by rising sea levels due to climate change; the resulting regions.
Why she brought the kids one last time would be the question always troubling her, never finding its reasonable answer. She told herself she wanted them to see the shore before the world changed again. After all, no one regretted last chances unless they weren't taken. Six years earlier she'd thought of visiting NYC, the bistro where she met her husband, to honor his memory. But she fussed over the budget. Her last chance passed her by, after half of New York City had eventually been submerged by the encroaching Atlantic.
Published on Apr 8, 2011
by Ewan C. Forbes
Published on Apr 24, 2012
by K.G. Jewell
Transcription of Orkney artifact 345NG, recovered at -10M, 3K SW from primary blast center. Handwritten on loose-leaf paper.
Minutes of the February meeting of the Orkney Boarding School Fiction Society, as recorded by Secretary Ewan Charlet, President Sophie Marwick presiding. Vice President Jamie Hurley also attending.
Published on Aug 1, 2011
by Michelle Ann King
Published on Jan 24, 2011
by David D. Levine
Joan put a hand into the beam of her headlamp, carefully inspecting the white LED light on her pale, pale palm. Was it fading already? She checked her fanny pack to be sure she had a spare battery.
Sometimes she thought it would be easier to do her foraging during the day. But going out by night not only avoided the need for heavy protective clothing, it was less disturbing. At night she couldn't see the roiling brown sky, or the blackened shells of burned-out buildings, or the bleached and crumbling remains of billboards and road signs.
Published on Oct 1, 2010
by Jennifer Mason-Black
Published on Mar 1, 2011
by Will McIntosh
Published on Oct 14, 2011
by Bernie Mojzes
Published on Sep 16, 2011
by Colum Paget
Published on Jan 24, 2012
by John Paolicelli
Published on Jul 4, 2011
by Guinevere Robin Rowell
Published on Sep 21, 2011
by S. A. Rudek
***Editor's Note: There is language here that may not be appropriate for young, or PG, readers***
The first time I hear "California Gurls" by Katy Perry, we are heading south on Magnolia Drive toward Montauk Bluffs because we think there might be guns down there.
Published on Oct 13, 2011
by Eric James Stone
What did the lady find in the future? There was nothing... There was nothing bad there. Nobody was sad in the future. Nobody was poor. Nobody hurt anybody else. Nobody was sick. Nobody did anything bad.
You're right, that does sound like a happy place. But the lady wasn't happy in the future. She was all lonely. She wanted to see her little girl again.
Published on Dec 14, 2010
by John Van Pelt
Published on Feb 23, 2012
by Nathan Wellman
“Daddy, watch me do the airplane thing!”
Robert shushed Dinah and told her to keep still. She was jostling the other people in line. They’d been here for eight hours, but he hadn’t heard a single complaint from anybody. What did they have to complain about, really? Up ahead their shuttle to safety was belching steam as the engineers put on the finishing touches. Soon it would be up, up, and away. Bye bye Earth. Bye bye apocalypse. They would wait with perfect patience.
Published on Nov 25, 2010
