Tag: science fiction

I’m Loving It

The beef sizzled on the grill, slowly fading to brown, grease bubbled and popped at the periphery of each patty. She monitored the meat and flipped them deftly, precisely when they reached 120°F. With her left hand she shook a basket of french fries above its oily tar pit. They would be done soon. The weight of the basket would tell her when they were fried to a golden perfection.

A few patties reached an internal 140°F and she accurately threw cheese slices onto the ones that required it. Then proceeded to lay out buns on the grill for a quick toasting. 167.5°F internal now. With inhuman speed, she flung all the buns to their prepared wrappers, and it should be noted that each bun landed directly in the center o f each wrapper. She then scooped each patty onto its bun and applied an exact amount of the preferred condiments for each burger.

Each burger was then wrapped so expertly you would have accepted it as a Christmas gift. Then each individual french fry was stood in its sleeve, in its intended place to achieve the desired weight. All the ordered items were then neatly placed in its required container and ready to be enjoyed.

On a tray, she passed a wrapped burger, fries, and a gabled box, filled with the like, to a man with his boy. The boy watched her with awe and exclaimed “Whoa, that was fast!” His dad chuckledand replied, saying “Isn’t technology amazing?” And as they took their precision made meals from the counter and walked away, the man continued, commenting to his son or whoever would hear, “Can you believe your mother used to work at one of these places when she was young?”

She watched them with her programmed smile, chewing over the last statement. She was unit MCD465684648 and she was proud to be doing what she was programmed to do. Another order came through, input from the drive-up window, and she made her way back to the line to start again.

She watched them with her programmed smile, chewing over the last statement. She was unit MCD465684648 and she was proud to be doing what she was programmed to do. Another order came through, input from the drive-up window, and she made her way back to the line to start again.

The Storm

The sky split and fractured with the approaching storm. All those in its wake frantically secured their belongings and boarded up their doors and windows. The underbelly of the beastly cloud rolled hastily in their direction, undulating grays to electric blues and flickering flashes resounding with whip-cracks that filled them all with dread.

The last storm with this similar menace hovered over their village for more than a week. It relentlessly beat on their shacks with pounding rain and shook them with terror at the sound of every explosion. Families huddled close for comfort throughout the entire event. Fortunately, only livestock was lost in the storm. The owner of the livestock was known to blaspheme and speak sourly of the ones above in his drunken stupors. The high ones never sit idly and allow for such ill will to go unnoticed.

Rumor has it, a few in the village have been plotting rebellion against the ones in the sky and if those above have uncovered the coming coup, then the village is in for a storm unlike any other it has previously seen.

The last windows were covered and the final doors were shut, and the faithful began their benedictions and pleas for pity as a nearby clap boomed in the air above them. The storm had reached the village. Another blast rang out and with it a small hut splintered and caught fire. No mercy will be found in this storm.

Reflections

The mirror reflected a young girl, about the age of 14, on horseback, peering out over the ocean as her mare padded along the beach, kicking up sand and saltwater as waves gently settled around its hooves.

With the touch of a finger to the mirror, the scene changed to reflect a young boy, about the same age as the girl on horseback. The boy was seated on the ground, hunched over and weeping. Fire and roaring flames licked at the dark sky in the background. He held the bloodied head of a young girl in his lap as he sat there and cried out in horror and disbelief.

Not able to bear this scene for long, another touch of the mirror shifted the reflection to a grand hall with children seated in ordered rows. Bright daylight flooding in from the ceiling of the hall and sculptures of great figures lining the entire perimeter. The focus of this scene was another young boy of about the same age. His skin a bright yellow hue. His eyes were rolled back in his head, as with all the other children’s behind him, and they were all wearing thin metalic discs on their heads.

The mirror gazer leaned closer to study these children, being so far from her understanding of what people look like. Though over the course of the last few days she has seen all manner of foreign landscapes and species in the mirror, that she could have never imagined existing. She found the mirror in the basement of her grandparents home, tucked away behind a bookshelf, forgotten and abandoned. Initially what attracted her to the mirror was the detailed bas-relief that adorned the frame. The mirror appeared to be just an ordinary mirror. But when she pulled it out and sat directly in front of it, she was not looking at her self any longer but a different teenage girl. This didn’t startle her, as it would startle most young girls, for she immediately understood the meaning of the mirror’s reflection.

Leaning closer to study the yellow boy a bit further she thought how truly odd it was that we all can look so different depending on our place of origin. At this precise moment, the yellow boy’s eyes rolled forward and seemed to be staring right into hers.

Startled by this, she quickly touched the mirror to change the scene again, but only blackness resulted. Panicking now she repeatedly poked at the glass to only get the result of a matte blackness that was as deep and dark as black can be. She was terrified now and in her dismay, shook the mirror with all her might in hopes the scene would change again. She began to cry as she struggled with the dark reflection. She was afraid now and this fear was not unfounded, for she knew the purpose of the mirror. She understood the mirror was only capable of reflecting the person that gazed into it.

It Approaches

Carelessly avoiding existence, she sat in the cold damp corner, eyes closed, arms wrapped around her knees and pulled close to her chest. Rocking steadily, slowly front to back. It was in this manner she spent hours, maybe even days, it is hard to say when the laws of time don’t apply here.

She stayed in that corner and waited for it to come, no inkling of what it actually was. She sat there and listened to it, a metronomic THRUMPH, THRUMPH, THRUMPH.  Never growing louder. Never getting softer. A steady cadence of THRUMPH, THRUMPH, THRUMPH, occasionally to be interrupted by a hacking, wheezing sound. The hacking, coughing expulsion, however, did grow in volume every time she heard it. That is how she understood it was approaching. There was only one way into this dead-end and she had not the courage to face the thing head on. So she waited there, listening, fearing its arrival.

THRUMPH, THRUMPH, it continued until the hacking, cough sounded like it was directly in front of her. THRUMPH, THRUMPH… until it suddenly ceased. She could feel its presence in front of her, but she dare not open her eyes and acknowledge its presence. It expelled a deafening, wheezing cough, that caused her to cover her ears and reel back from the sound, and then it sharply cut off and went silent. She pulled her knees closer and shut her eyes tighter, anticipating what could come next.

In the silence a running ooze dripped onto her bare arms, causing her to tighten and tremble in horror. She tolerated the sickening slime falling on her the best she could until she could bear it no longer. She opened her eyes, prepared to scream out in fear, only to be confronted by nothing. Only blackness. Even the luminescent speckles that lined the walls had gone dim.

Slowly she reached out and groped the space in front of her only to find emptiness. Hurriedly she crawled forward as quickly as she could, in search of an exit.

And it started all over again. THRUMPH, THRUMPH, THRUMPH.

Override

Blurred lights and buildings streaked by as they flew through the dark night. He had to tap into the car’s mainframe, rewrite a few lines, and leave his signature code, in order to produce this kind of speed. She wasn’t impressed though. Said she could replicate that code in her sleep. He’s never seen anyone else do it before though and frankly hasn’t seen another car achieve the lightning speed his cars can. Sure, it was common enough for people to access and edit small things here and there. Kids love to reprogram the cabin lights to flash and move and shift colors in beat with the music. Little things like that to impress girls. But the depth he had to reach and the layers upon layers of firewalls and safety enforcement code he had to pierce is unheard of. Just to transport people quickly. The jobs were usually get-aways and he was paid well for them. What they were getting away from, he would never ask. His job was to find a car, program the quickest and lightest traffic route from extraction to drop off, and make that car go ungodly fast.

He let her indifference roll right off. He had a job to do and he was doing it well. They sat across the open cab from each other, him staring out into the night. There was no real need for him to be there. It was an additional service he offered and most liked to pay top dollar for him to be present. It set their minds at ease. If something went wrong, he would be there to override and reprogram and get things working again. But nothing ever goes wrong.

The Gift

Who’s the first to cross over? It sure as hell isn’t me. I’ll let those dumb sons of bitches be the ones to test the border, with their enthusiasm and dreams of glory and discovery. I’m perfectly content with my dreams of waking up to another pot of coffee tomorrow.

I am damn far back in line and don’t have the best view up ahead. nobody has started running in the opposite direction yet, or screamed bloody murder for that matter. All good signs. Still, we are all anxious, especially me. Its a suspicious thing after all, when this pocket -no more like a bubble because you can see the curvature of its barrier- of pure, breathable air suddenly appears just miles outside of many highly populated areas around the world. All these bubbles are somehow fully protected from the exhaust and smog and smoke that fills the surrounding atmosphere. None of the outside air passes through but objects of higher density can pass right through the bubble like stepping through a doorway.

What a gift right? Breathable air when these black skies are all we’ve ever known? Yet every metropolis, including this one, has been too paranoid to investigate until now. I am less than enthusiastic to report we were selected by the powers that be to be the first expedition to explore a one of these. I mean, yeah, the thought of taking this damn thing off and being able to inhale is an interesting one. But all I can imagine is the horror movie scenario on the other side. These things never end well. I’m just fine with my respirator and my smoggles, thank you very much. But here I am, with no real choice in the matter, and will be on the other side soon.

Systems Down

Blood ran down his face and blinded his eyes. Blood mixed with sweat, that stung as he tried to wipe his sight clear. The lights flickered in the cabin to the rhythm of the alarm bursts. The cockpit window was smeared with what seemed to be mud or sludge. The view out obscured.

He looked around at his surroundings and groaned. Just the mere movement sent a wave of pain shuttering through his body. Something internal, he thought.

Upon first inspection, the entire crew was missing. Was he left, presumed dead? How could that be? He has no recollection of blacking out. He remembers the whole series of events leading up to the crash. Everything up to this moment.

As he struggles to unbuckle his harness he sees blood smeared across the floor. The gruesome trails lead to the cabin exit, yet the cabin exit remained closed.

His mind and body wanted to shift into a panic, but he knows he can’t afford to. Not until he has a better understanding of what is going on. He tries to clear the cockpit windshield to get a feel for where he is. The wipers aren’t functioning. All systems are down.

He tries the exit door. Its jammed or blocked from the outside. Leaning against the exit door, he can feel that there is something out there. He can hear it too. A calm steady tap, tap, tapping. Hurriedly he tries to open the weapons vault. The tapping is getting louder and stronger. He fights with the vault code. Scrambles to get it open. The electronic lock release has malfunctioned.

The tapping is turning into a banging now. With no defense, nor knowledge of what approaches, he sits back, facing the exit. Waiting to meet what is on the other end.