r/WritingPrompts • u/AliciaWrites Editor-in-Chief | /r/AliciaWrites • Jun 13 '19
Theme Thursday [TT] Theme Thursday - Future
“What is history? An echo of the past in the future; a reflex from the future on the past.”
― Victor Hugo
Happy Thursday writing friends!
What lies ahead, I wonder. There’s a lot of untapped potential in humanity. The amount of technology that we could develop is incomprehensible. The reaches we could discover in space, and further. The social growth we could make in the world is astounding. Let’s consider progressing into the future with no change. Consider the future with only a little change. And what if there was a complete overhaul of everything we’ve ever known?
The past cannot be changed. The future is yet in your power.
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Campfire
- Wednesdays we will be hosting a Theme Thursday Campfire on the discord main voice lounge. Join us to read your story aloud, hear other stories, and have a blast discussing writing! I’ll be there 6 pm CST and we’ll begin within about 15 minutes. Don’t worry about being late, just join!
As a reminder to all of you writing for Theme Thursday: the interpretation is completely up to you! I love to share my thoughts on what the theme makes me think of but you are by no means bound to these ideas! I love when writers step outside their comfort zones or think outside the box, so take all my thoughts with a grain of salt if you had something entirely different in mind.
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Last week’s theme: Power
First by /u/Mazinjaz
Fifth by /u/Ford9863
Honorable Mention to another first timer starting out strong! Great job, /u/Hyranic!
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u/Palmerranian Jun 19 '19 edited Jun 19 '19
“You’re back,” Agent Dawson said as the door closed behind me. I had to force myself not to scowl at his smirk. Even if he was my superior, I couldn’t ever get over the arrogance.
“I am,” I said. He tilted his head as if expecting more, but I didn’t continue. I only gave him the same blank stare I always did
He grunted. “How was the target? Did they resist?”
I glared at him as fresh memories rushed back. My target this time had been simpler than most. A poor man in a run-down apartment who’d only been repairing a piece of furniture before I’d arrived and painted the wall behind him with the former contents of his skull. He’d pleaded with me, of course. Tried to tell me about his sick mother and how he was the only thing giving her hope.
But I hadn’t listened. It wasn’t my job to listen.
Agent Dawson raised his eyebrows, reminding me of the question.
“No, sir,” I said and meant it. From the moment the call had come through with my next target, it hadn’t been a hassle. Not physically, at least. It was always hard ending someone’s life where they stood. Especially for someone like the man I’d killed, where his future was the most valuable thing he had.
“You don’t have to call me sir,” Agent Dawson said, his smirk hiding frustration. “Good to hear, though. This was… target number nine?”
I glanced down at my bracelet and counted the knots. “Ten.”
His smirk wavered. “So only five more until it’s over.” He glanced over as if gauging my reaction. I didn’t give him anything. “Five more until your past transgressions are overlooked.”
I fought back a sneer, remembering the cold night when he’d found me. Crying among the burned ruins of the resistance headquarters. Even now, he wouldn’t let me forget how he’d offered me a chance. A future, if only I did work they didn’t want to be seen doing.
Without waiting for me to respond, he gestured to my arm. I nodded, uncovering the government sigil tattooed onto my skin.
“Did you deal with your assigned target?”
“Yes,” I said. Not even a spark of light noted it as a lie.
Agent Dawson narrowed his eyes. “Will you continue to deal with your assigned targets?”
“Yes.” Again, no light.
“Alright,” he said, smiling and waving me off. “Good. Your next target will come tomorrow.”
I nodded again, already stepping to the door. He was done with his questions. I was free to go. But as I slipped out of the room, I didn’t miss the one he’d left unsaid.
Did it bother me?
Of course it did. Robbing people of their futures cut me to my core. But I couldn’t get caught up in the guilt. I had to look out for myself and protect my own interests—my own future.
It was all I had left.
494 Words.
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u/iruleatants Jun 19 '19 edited Jun 20 '19
"What would you sacrifice for your children's future?"
She calls to me every night. The moment that I close my eyes, she draws me closer to her. Her sweet voice pours over me like a babbling brook. Her soft hands pull me into her warm embrace and push back the darkness.
In the world between the living and the dead, she is still here. I press my head against her chest and feel her beating heart. I open up and pour out all of my doubts and worries and cling desperately to her still warm body. She is everything that I want, and I am always ripped away from her by the same whisper.
"What would you sacrifice for your children's future?"
I'm abruptly thrust back into the cold and silent real world. A world where my bed is empty, and I cannot rest. A world that she no longer inhabits. I silence my alarm and force myself to get dressed before I grab a prepared meal from the fridge and leave the house.
The world is still asleep as I board the bus filled with kindred souls stuck on the same daily grind. The beep of my timecard, the whirl of a printer, and the steady drip of coffee fill my morning until others join us. The steady clack of my keyboard as I enter an endless stream of numbers. My eyelids droop as the hour's crawl. A meager meal consumed at my desk to meet my production numbers.
My phone vibrates within my pocket as the babysitter lets me know she picked the kids up from school. Just another hour and a dozen more reports to enter. Thirty minutes left until I can leave this chair. One more report and a beep from my timecard.
A bus filled with people heading home to their loved ones and friends. The excited chatter of freedom and buzzing of phones as new plans are made. The entire night is open and free, and there are so many things that can be done. If only I could join them.
A lazy wave from a security guard. A soft beep from a timecard and the clicking of another keyboard. The whirl of a printer and the dripping of coffee into a pot. Just eight more hours and I will be done.
The bus is filled with kindred souls on the same daily grind as me. We sit and stare into the darkness in silence as our eyelids battle to close. A silent house waits for me as I force my aching body up the stairs.
She waits for me at the end of the hallway. She calls to me once again, to join her in the land between the living and the dead. She is there to take away the pain and the misery and to soothe my soul. Just one stop along the way. Two foreheads to kiss before I collapse back into the darkness.
"What would you sacrifice for your children's future?"
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u/novatheelf Jun 19 '19
The second floor was dark and empty as the two men continued their work, carrying over from the long eight-hour day. One of them — a fair-haired gentleman — flicked his wrist over and checked the time. Seeing the lateness of the hour, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. His companion glanced up over his reading glasses and set down the papers he was rifling through.
“Tired already, Banquo?” the man asked with a teasing smile. “I don’t see why you would be; it’s not like you’ve done anything today."
The fair-haired man laughed. “If I haven’t done any work, then you certainly haven’t either, boss.”
His grin widening, the other man winked. “It is late,” he admitted. “How about a victory toast for the merger today?”
Banquo nodded and pulled two whiskey glasses from his desk. The other man got up and disappeared down the hall for a moment, reappearing with a bottle of caramel-colored liquid. He filled the two glasses and raised one to his coworker. “To Donald,” he said with a wry smile, “and his inability to impede the inevitable.”
They clinked their glasses together and drank. Banquo swirled the liquid in his glass, deep in thought. “It is a shame about Donald,” he said. “You’d have thought a man who had worked for the company for so long would have some loyalty to it.”
“Eh, it’s for the best,” the other man muttered. “Duncan will find someone else to — ”
The sound of the office door opening interrupted the man. From the outer darkness, three janitors appeared with mops and brooms in hand. Seeing Banquo, they paused in the doorway; yet when they saw the other man, recognition flashed in their eyes. They smiled in unison.
“Hello, Mr. Manager,” the first one said, pointing her broom handle at the man. “How’s it feel to be in charge of the Glamis branch?”
The second one laughed, accidentally kicking the mop bucket in her gaiety. “Sister, don’t you mean to say ‘the Cawdor branch?’”
The man looked confused. “What are you talking about? Donald is over the Cawdor branch. Or — he was. There’s no one now, at least until the CEO puts someone new in his place.”
Giggling, the third janitor peeked out from behind the second. “That’ll be you here soon,” she said, winking.
The man looked at Banquo, speechless. Banquo shook his head and looked uncomfortable at the intrusion.
“Listen, ladies,” the man began, “just clean whatever you need to and be on your way.”
A pinging noise sounded from the man’s computer. He had a new email — and it was marked as urgent. The man clicked it open and began to read, realizing midway through that it was from the CEO’s secretary. He was being promoted to manager over the Cawdor branch.
The man looked up at the janitors, his eyes wild. “Tell me more,” he begged.
They smiled, their eyes gleaming. “Macbeth, we thought you’d never ask.”
WC: 497
Read more at r/NovaTheElf!
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u/Leebeewilly Jun 19 '19
Disclaimer: I couldn't choose which one I liked better. So you get both.
Raindrops lined his shoulders and wet his hair. Upon entering Madam Kala’s Occult Shop he brushed them clear.
“Welcome,” Madam Kala smiled from behind the glass counter where trinkets from the meticulous to cheaply made lay with inflated prices. “Please feel free to ask any questions you may have.”
He nodded, scanning the room. The scent of sandalwood incense stung his nose. Why is it always sandalwood?
“I read,” he reached into his pocket and pulled free the store’s business card. “You do readings?” Madam Kala’s smile lit her lips. “Crystal ball. For 39.99 I provide an initial reading.” Her eyes looked him up and down unabashed. “For something more intense, 79.99.”
“How do I know you’re the real deal?”
Madam Kala’s eyes fluttered and her smile grew sly. “You must have faith or it won’t matter if I’m real or not.”
He pulled out his wallet and produced four twenties. As he handed them over she folded them neatly and pressed the bills inside the bra of her dress.
“This way.” Madam Kala slid off her stool and lifted back her curtain. Behind it was just as he expected; drapery on the walls, the lights dimmed, the small round table with two chairs and a crystal ball at its center.
“Have a seat…?” She waited for a name.
“Jack.”
Her smile faltered before she took up her spot across from him. “Tell me, Jack, what answers from tomorrow do you seek?”
He shrugged. “More curious to know what you see.”
“No love troubles or concern about work?”
He shook his head. “I mean, if you wanna take a look at how my next job’ll pan out, I won’t stop you.”
Madam Kala’s eyes narrowed at first but she relented to turn to the crystal. A click sounded beneath the table and a light emanated from the orb.
Her eyes glazed over and he slid his hand into his pocket. For a good twenty seconds, she seemed to doze until sweat lined her brow. Madam Kala sat back in her chair with a frown.
“Well?” he asked.
“You… have money in your future. A great sum. A man in a hotel room with a briefcase. Room 212.”
“Have to say,” he leaned forward and put the business card on the table. “I did not expect you to be real.”
Madam Kala picked up the card and her jaw dropped. He didn’t need to know the name on the back. The “who”, the “why”, they never really mattered.
“I don’t…” Madam Kala’s fingers shook the card. “…how could you know?”
He pulled free his gun. “Shame you didn’t look back.”
The silenced pop stained the drapery scarlet. He riffled through her top and pulled free his money. He left the card on the table.
WC: 465
Strongly suggest you also read my earlier Future TT. And of course, visit r/leebeewilly!
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u/blackbird223 Jun 19 '19 edited Jun 20 '19
For whoever reads this: Khwarizmi is pronounced "huh-var-is-me". Thanks!
******
“This concludes our presentation on Advanced Learning Agents and Neural Network Augmentation. Do you have any questions?”
I let myself relax, just a bit. This presentation was my first time outside the lab, and it was finally over. My colleague, Marie Benson, gave me a thumbs-up as she answered the first question.
“Dr. Benson. You said your advanced learning agent can learn a ‘wide variety’ of tasks. What sort of tasks constitute a wide variety?”
“A very good question, thank you for asking. We have managed to train our agent to do so many things during the time we have worked with her: she’s an incredible student. Of course, she can beat the world champion in chess, Go, backgammon, even poker. However, we’ve also managed to teach her some public speaking. She may be the main presenter, next time we’re here!”
The crowd laughed, a little nervously.
“Don’t worry, we’re not obsolete yet. Next question!”
Marie answered question after question, letting me hum along in the background, until:
“Dr. Benson. Ms. Morcom. My name is Ilhan al-Khwarizmi.”
“Yes, Mr. al-Khwarizmi?”
“You claim you have had this AI under development for the last fifteen years.”
“That is correct.”
“How long until it is ready for public release? Judging from my experience, your work sounds interesting, and I want to see what it can do for the world.”
I was about to activate my microphone, when Marie grabbed my arm. She tapped her temple, shutting off her mic.
“Don’t do this. Not yet.”
“Mr. al-Khwarizmi asked us a question. I know the answer, better than you do.”
“Alanna, please. We don’t know how the crowd will react.”
Marie had a point. I recalled an old debate about AI.
“Humans may never accept a truly ‘general’ AI. We’ve fought each other based on the most minor differences. How will we tolerate an entirely new form of consciousness?”
If I told the crowd how capable our AI was, it could cause a panic. And yet…
“You know as well as I do, Ms. Deleski, that AI's are incredible students- they can learn to be human. Besides, if we don't try to make general AI, how will we know how we'll react?”
I looked at Marie. “We’ll never know until we find out.”
Marie looked deep into my eyes. “If you do this… the world will never be the same.”
“I know.”
I turned to the room, and activated my mic. “Mr. al-Khwarizmi. People of San Francisco. I have an announcement to make. My name is Alanna Eugenia Morcom, and I am the AI you are looking for.”
The room was silent. Even the press cameras had stopped clicking.
“My original designation was ALA-6.7. For the last fifteen years, I’ve been under development in a secret facility run by Skylight Artificial Intelligence’s research and development division. This is my first time outside.”
I commanded a pair of servos to pull my mouth into a smile.
“It’s very nice to meet you all!”
******
WC: 497.
Who says the future has to be dark? Feedback welcome!
EDIT: Took some of the campfire feedback into account.
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Jun 19 '19
Hello! Thank you for reading. I read all written feedback. If you've been elected to read this aloud in the Campfire, thank you for taking a crack at it. The character name "Jokir" is pronounced "Yo-keer", but "Angel" is prounced "Ain-jell" not "Anhel" like "Jokir" might lead you to think.
“Mr Future is here to see you,” said the receptionist.
She looked almost as bored as Jokir felt, but he still leaned forward.
“Professor,” said Jokir.
The receptionist looked up from her cellphone, her green eyes flashing in irritation. “Excuse me?”
“You introduced me as Mr Future. My name is Professor Future.”
She stared at him.
“It’s just that I went through college, and undergrad, and I got my PhD in Predictive Algorithms. But I didn’t want to be a pompous ass and call myself Dr Future. So… I mean, I did teach at Carbondale Tech for nearly five years.”
A buzzer sounded on the door behind her, and she pointed over her shoulder as she turned her face back to her phone. “Ms Levine will see you now. Don’t look at her eye.”
Jokir straightened his tie and entered the office.
“How did it go, Jo?” Asked his wife.
He tossed his briefcase into the backseat and closed the car door, then slid into the passenger seat.
“As predicted,” he replied.
“That bad?”
He nodded, and loosened his tie.
“I couldn’t help it. The receptionist told me not to look at her eye. But. She makes no effort to obscure it, or hide it. It’s just… there. In all its gory. Er, glory.”
Angel patted his leg, and turned the engine over. “So you failed at the two biggest companies in town. You’ll do better on the next interview.”
He knew better than to tell her what the data suggested.
“It’s funny what drives a person to super-villainy,” said Dr Future.
Captain Sentinel spat blood, and picked himself up from the ground. He staggered forward, but Dr Future was ready. Three bullets put the large man back down again, although that wouldn’t be enough to keep him down.
Dr Future circled the missile, and stroked a rocket fin with a rubber-gloved hand. “It’s usually anger that does it. But for me, it was grief. Despair. Anger, yes of course. But love, more than anything.”
Sentinel coughed, a heaving gasping thing. “You’ll never get away with this.”
“I already have. This lovely toy is a model. The real thing launched from an abandoned missile silo off the coast of St. Aubergine two hours ago. It’s cruising low and slow towards its target. It’ll appear as a flock of birds on any radar that might pick it up. It’ll vaporize Carbondale in less than fifteen minutes. And with it, those three godawful corporations that have done so much to destroy this planet.”
Dr Future took a few quick strides to Captain Sentinel’s side, kicking him in the ribs. “You lost before you even got your pants on.”
The Captain held his side, and coughed up more blood. “You’re a madwoman, Future!”
Dr Angel Future shook her head. “No. I’m a hero.”
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u/Leebeewilly Jun 19 '19
Have to say, the reader for campfire notes are adorbs and super helpful. <3
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u/Alpacasaurus_Rekt Jun 18 '19 edited Jun 18 '19
Deep underground, a group of soldiers were gathered around a stone coffin. Inside laid a child, a girl of eleven years. Her eyes spoke of fear and desperation. Her hands were balled into fists. She clenched them tightly.
"Is the spell ready?" asked the leader of the soldiers, a tall man by the name of Roland.
"Yes, sir," one of his subordinates replied.
"Seal the lid."
Roland looked at the child before him, as a heavy stone lid was placed atop the coffin. A sorrow was placed upon his face as her face disappeared behind the stone.
"I'm sorry," was all he managed to say.
One of the soldiers stepped forwards. He held a brush and a jar of something red. He dipped the brush in the red, and painted onto the coffin lid a circle, and struck through the circle with a line. Another soldier held a staff high. A white light shone from it and the stone lid melded with the coffin.
"One more step," Roland said. "How much time do we have?"
The soldier closest to the passage looked out and spoke, "They're coming. Seconds."
Roland nodded, and the soldiers continued their spell.
"We will die today," Roland said. "But she will live. In centuries untold when this grave is found again and humanity is no more, she will be last of us. She is our future."
The staff beamed out another white light. The creatures marched. The men drew their swords. And the child slept for a thousand years.
WC: 253
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u/Leebeewilly Jun 18 '19
“Please,” Carla let her words draw out long and smooth. “Follow me through to the back, sweet child.”
Carla pulled back the curtain as the young woman stepped through to the back of her shop. The woman couldn’t be more than eighteen, that natural blush still clinging to her cheeks as her eyes hungrily scoured the walls. The trinkets that lined Madam Kala’s Occult Shop varied from the authentic to the misleading. More than half were junk she’d found in estate sales tarted up to deceive the less discerning.
Carla’s wine coloured dress dragged across the floor hiding discount flip-flops as she led her customer to the table.
“My name’s Sandy, Madam Kala.”
“Have a seat, Sandy”
Sandy coiffed curls bounced as she sat. The round table was surrounded in thick drapery to force intimacy and the necessary veil of darkness. At the table’s center sat the crystal ball. The moment Sandy took her seat, the girl's eyes fixed on the pristine orb. “Tell me, Sandy,” Carla slipped to her seat across the small table. “What answers from tomorrow do you seek?”
“Donnie,” Sandy whispered the name. “Madam Kala, I’m worried he’s going to cheat on me like Brandon did. I just…” Sandy huffed out a sigh and her lips formed a pout.
“You want solace to know he is true?”
Sandy nodded and sat back.
Showtime. Carla rolled back her sleeves to reveal layers of bracelets tied about her wrists. At two bucks a pop, they served to enhance the mystery even if they damn things chaffed. She leaned over the ball and put her foot over the pedal hidden beneath the table. The dimmed enclosed circle lit softly, the small light projecting up into the crystal ball. It was all for the customer, of course. To feel a part of the experience.
But in it, Carla saw more. Past the light, truth formed in images.
The girl. The door to Carla’s shop. She turns right. Days fluttered before Carla’s eyes, two days, she guessed by the suns rise and set. A boy. A fight. Tears blurring Sandy’s sight. A car. A red light… missed. Glass. Blood.
A body.
Cheap bracelet beads littered the pavement. Purple robes torn and stained scarlet. Carla’s robes. Carla’s dark waves in the street. Carla’s eyes open. Forever open. Seeing…
“…nothing.” Carla panted back a breath and pushed away from the table.
“What did you see?” Sandy asked.
Carla sought the crystal. Her hands braced on either side.
The girl. The door to Carla’s shop. She turns left. A day flutters before her eyes. Another girl. Another fight. The boy watches. Nails scratching. Yelling. A trip, just a slip in the rain. Glass. Blood. A body.
Sandy’s curls stained red. Sandy’s eyes open. Forever open.
“Madam Kala?”
Carla looked up, sweat upon her brow.
“Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” Carla lied as she sat down. “You have nothing to fear, child, so long as you turn left when you leave.”
WC: 496
Like this? Check out my subreddit at r/leebeewilly. There is more. MUCH more.
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u/nava_rasa_bharita Jun 18 '19
The loudspeakers of the debate room were booming with heated dialogue. The grey room was filled with metallic, shiny robots and humans of various tones. Everyone was staring intently at the assembled crowd and the candidates.
Soon, the robot and the human candidates took their seat. They were contesting for the post of President of the Unified Beings, a new title which was but a mere relic of the olden days, way before the creation of the robot race themselves. The title may have changed, but the process was the same.
Many beings were physically present, and many more via their VR participation technology. The low humming of the huge supercomputer, which allowed this event to be hosted and viewed by all, punctuated the air as the moderator started the debate.
The human began with her opening statement: ‘ I am an advocate for equality. Our common, shared quality is sentience. I treat my fellow beings equally. However, in our current society, there is an inherent bias towards the robots. If you all believe in equality and the shared destiny of our Unified Nation of Sentients, I appeal to you all: Vote for me.’
A resounding wave of claps emerged. Most of them came from soft human hands. Others came from the hard, metallic clangs of the robot hands.
‘Nonsense!’ the robot began, adjusting his voice modulator to take on a medium-pitched male voice. ‘ Robots are clearly superior! The efficiency, speed, and productivity that they provide are benefits to our nation as a whole! We are capable of increasing our economies by astounding rates, reducing fatality to decimal percentages, and ensuring a better future for the next generation! If you believe in reaching a better future and a better economy, vote for me!’
‘At what expense?’ rebutted the human. ‘At the expense of humans who are striving for equal opportunity? Equal pay? Equal rights? Are we discriminating on the basis of ability? How does that make us any different from our ancestors? It would be like discriminating robots based on their OS version.’ This was met with a lot of shocked expressions, from both humans and robots alike.
‘What you may be saying is correct,’ began the robot, ‘ However, that was because the humans were wasting their potential in imagined superiority battles. Now, our fundamental differences separate us in ability. This disparity can be used for the greater good of our society. The ends justify the means! Are you asking me to disregard the benefits?’ he questioned.
Before the human could counter again, a loud, jarring buzzer rang in the air. The central fountain of the room now displayed an elephant hologram. On the background screen, daggers could be seen flying from one candidate to the other. Soon, the elephant transformed into a block and a knife. The knife tried to cut the block from various angles, but it was futile.
Clearly, it was the question that determined the outcome of the election.
---
Hello Reader! This is my first TT story attempt, so I hope you like it! Please post any feedback you have in the comments below! I'd love to hear what you think about this earnest (and likely error-ridden) attempt of mine. I hope you have a nice morning/afternoon/evening/night!
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u/Barabbas_Principle Jun 18 '19
The stars revolved around me when I opened my eyes. I wanted to vomit, but swallowed it instead. With my helmet on, it had nowhere to go but my breathing tube, and I had no intention of choking on my own puke. I activated my maneuvering jets to halt my rotation and waited for the numbers and gauges on my HUD to stop moving around so I could read them already. Life support systems nominal, no armor breaches. I exhaled with relief. I looked around for the rest of my squad. They were below me, along with the wreckage of our boarding vessel. Bill, Davis, and Amir were in much the same state as our boarding vessel: broken into pieces of varying sizes and drifting away into the void. Only Martin still had a pulse. It was easy to spot him. A thin jet of vapor leaked from his neck as his limp body performed back flips through the debris with his legs stretched out, and his arms flung up above his head. Martin could be such a clown sometimes. Wait, no, this wasn't a joke. Martin was dying.
For a moment, I simply stared, my mind blank with awe. We got shot by the dreadnought. How was I still alive? I checked my suit's diagnostics again. Life support systems nominal, no armor breaches. My emergency repair kit was on my belt right where it should be. I looked back toward Martin. He was clearly unconscious, and spinning slightly faster than before. If I didn't patch his suit quickly, he'd decompress. Just as I was about to activate my jets, green text flashed across my visor; new orders from the Benefactors.
"Boarding Vessel Gamma has successfully breached the dreadnought hull. Rendezvous with Gamma Squad and continue the mission."
I looked up, and there it was, an enormous bullet lazily twisting its way through space with turrets and missile racks mounted on all sides, the dreadnought. Flowers of orange and black bloomed and died from the tips of its cannons and at odd places along its hull as it received and returned fire, but the only sounds I heard were my own breath and my own heartbeat. The void silenced the din of battle. As I looked on, my suit's computer plotted a course to Gamma Squad's hull breach. But what about Martin? I looked down and he was still there, still performing slow-motion acrobatics in his sleep, his neck still leaking vapor. More text flashed across my visor, this time in red.
"Leave him. Continue the mission."
The full story is 1797 words. This is the first 427.
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u/Goshinoh Jun 18 '19
The city sparkled through the viewport, a million lights in every color of the rainbow. Drop fluid distorted the scene, but I could see where the plumes of smoke obscured the nightlife. There’s a big difference between firelight and neon.
The drop pod smashed down into an empty plaza, the rest of the squad not far behind. I clicked on thermals as I exited into the night, taking a deep breath of cool air before Sergeant Maston’s voice roared over comms.
“Riot’s escalated, so here we are!” He shouted, gesturing for the squad to take positions. “Some yokels thinking anything without some Earth dirt on its boots isn’t worth the time of day! Set stun, find the leaders, and we can close shop early!”
I scanned the area, but the only thing on sensors were rats. A lot of rats. Whatever supremacist militia had decided to give revolution a go, they hadn’t come running at our flashy entrance. It made me uneasy.
Just when I was beginning to worry our hosts hadn’t prepared a welcome, a trio of police bots rounded the corner. There was a brief second while we stared at them, before their guns rose and one of the men shouted a warning.
“Hacker!” I yelled, as bullets began to fly. Absentmindedly I triggered ECM protocols, watching with delight as an indicator told me the hacker’s device was bricked by a virus. At least now the guys would stop complaining about those courses I took.
Maston paused to eye the fallen robots before gesturing down the road they’d come from. “Intel says their HQ’s that way. Let’s get a move on.”
The rest of the militia’s forces put up as much resistance as the bots had. Old-fashioned blackmarket ballistics were enough to menace local police, but not us. It wasn’t long before we’d busted down their leader’s door, a middle-aged man marked by years of work.
“You’ve got no right!” He screamed, right hand clutching the detonator to a makeshift bomb. “No right here!” With his left arm, he held a terrified pale-skinned woman tight against his chest.
“Calm down now, friend.” Maston said, hands raised placatingly. The rest of us waited, unsure whether to raise or lower our guns.
“Offworlders like you, coming here, telling us how to live, how to be!” The man shouted, spit flying with each word. He gestured towards the woman with the detonator. “Men like you, women like her, not even human!”
“Can you hack it?” Maston said, barely a whisper through the comms.
“Two seconds.” I replied.
“Coming here and taking work from honest people, born and raised right here! I won’t be told how to live by some Martian who’s never set foot on green soil!” The man continued.
“Done.” I said, and Maston was moving before I finished, pistol raised and shot fired. The man crumpled in a heap, the stun round doing its job.
“Another crazy.” He sighed. “At least it keep us in work.”
2
u/tallonetales Jun 17 '19 edited Jun 17 '19
"Grandmother"
Granny tucked her child's son tightly into bed
and lovingly traced her craggy nail across his tiny head.
It bore no scars or blemishes, no, nothing of the sort,
but on Granny’s cheek, below her eye, was an aging, shriveled wart.
“Is Mommy coming back tomorrow, Granny? I miss her a really lot.”
The child’s voice, pure innocence, tied Granny’s guts in knots.
“Hush now, dear,” Granny croaked. “Don’t worry about tomorrow.
Dwelling on the future will only bring you sorrow.
Granny knew a woman once who only looked ahead.
She ran through life with blinders on and opened up her bed.
She married young, with child, left her family and her home.
She chose a man who wore his favorite whiskey as cologne.”
“Her battered face bore bruises from the boorish beau that she betrothed,
until one night she very calmly opened up his throat.
He sat in stupor, slurping suds, scornful of his wife.
The evening news told civic tales as she came in with the knife.”
Granny’s gaze grew blurry as tears welled up in her eyes,
the man’s red smile in her mind as she recounted his demise.
She swatted at her cheeks, cleared her vision of the tears.
His fearful face looked up at her, now younger by many years.
“Don’t be scared, my love, she can’t hurt you anymore,”
Granny spoke through choking sobs, got up and closed the door.
“I want mommy,” the child whined, tucked tightly into bed.
He wiggled, wailed, and wiggled more as Gran loomed overhead.
“Mommy is a murderer, she took my only son!”
Granny’s levy burst and the facade was made undone.
She waddled forward, shuffling as angry grannies do.
She caught the rug, came crashing down, and split her lip in two.
“Aghh,” she groaned, the clamor nearly shaking the whole house.
She gained her feet and stared ahead, blood dripping from her mouth.
“Mommy made her choices with little thought, so cavalierly.
So caught up with the future, but never able to see it very clearly.
She killed him dead, got off scot free, resolute in her denial
a price was owed and here it is— blood for blood. Revenge. Reprisal.”
She grabbed a pillow from the bed, the child lay motionless, frozen.
As she descended with the smothering down, the door came crashing open.
Mommy stood there crooked, red, and braced against the jamb.
She wrenched the knife blade from her back, howled and advanced.
Granny spun to meet her, the blade held in between,
the moonlight through the window caught its ruby-silver sheen.
Granny yelped and Mommy roared, they crashed down through the curtains.
With a thud they landed far below, the child’s future made uncertain.
2
u/Mazinjaz Jun 17 '19
“It’s finally time for our main event! Ladies, gentlemen, and others in the audience or watching from afar, this is the moment we have all been waiting for! The noise from the crowd is astounding! K4sie, give me your thoughts?”
“I’m ever grateful for Metrotech’s communication implants, or else I’d have no way to hear you over this din Jim. But who can blame them? Tonight’s challenger has clawed his way through the ranks of the entire Federation, all so he could have a shot of the champ!”
“And what a trip it has been! From day one, Riptide has demonstrated an unmatched ferocity, and limbs fly whenever he’s in the arena. And here he comes now!”
“Half a ton of metal and flesh, Zed Industries has spared nothing in making Riptide an unstoppable killing machine. It’s only thanks to their new hydraulic systems that he can lift that claw at all! To say nothing about their patented ZedFiber™ buzzsaws on the rest of his body. Anybody he grabs is in for a world of pain.”
“I would just like to remind our audience to keep their hands out of the cage, as we cannot be held responsible for lost fingers.”
“Be safe, be prepared. Re-Human Modelling Insurance: because accidents happen. Our challenger is in the arena!”
“Hear the audience roar K4sie! They know they are in for a show! Riptide is fearsome, but can he take on the champ?”
“I don’t know Jim, the champ has kept E.S. Corp on top for over five years now, and I don’t think they are ready to give the crown away. Their military crafts have always been a thing to behold.”
“I think we’re about to find out, the gate is opening! The audience stands! The champ’s here, and she’s not taking any prisoners! The one! The only! THE BEEEEAST!”
“She weights in at a ton, but look at the Mechascorpion’s legs glide across the walls. Only E.S. Corp has mastered that kind of movement and they remain unbeaten to this day. Jim, I think the Beast is running on autopilot again tonight?”
“Our champ does appear to be sleeping on top of her mechanized legs. This could be good news for Riptide! The Beast is a terror, and even on autopilot she has crushed many an opponent, but we’ve been told she can be predictable! Our last challenger, Clawhammer, proved that when he managed to do serious damage to the scorpion! Sadly, that also woke the champ up.”
“I still find fragments when I comb my hair, Jim.”
“So do I, K4sie, so do I. But is Riptide taking a lesson from Clawhammer’s mistake?”
“Zed Industries learned a lot from their last encounter, and their tech has greatly improved since then. I think we’ll be surprised!”
“Will we? Or will we witness another massacre from the champ? Our fighters are ready!”
“The countdown is on! Three!”
“Two!”
“One!”
“ENGAAAGE!”
---
Dialogue tags who needs dialogue tags.
2
Jun 16 '19
It is nothing more than a simple alarm clock. It sits at the border of my desk. It does nothing more than tell the time. There is nothing particular to this clock, its only particular sign is that it has been mine for quite some time now, an eternity. It is of no importance. There is nothing to it, it is entirely made of plastic and the numbers displayed inside are simply printed on a crude piece of paper. It is not fancy, but it serves a purpose and does it well. At every lapse of a second, the clock lets out a crude mechanic sound, as a reminder of the passage of time. Every moment that I spend watching this clock is a lost moment, every jump of the hand is a lapse in time, into the future, already disappearing as it lurches towards another number. As I listen to this simple rhythm, I finally become disgusted of it. I cannot bear the repetitiveness of the future, of its a sound, each of its occurrence enclosed in the sound of the past movements. “Shut up,” I cry out and in a fit of rage, I take the square of plastic and throw it across the room. It crashes into the wall and the sound of the moving hands disappear, obliterated by the soft sound of its destruction. I bend over to pick up the broken item and I catch a glimpse of my face in the broken glass. I see my face enclosed in the separated hands, a tear is rolling down my cheek. She has left, she will never come back.
3
u/MrDMeerkat Jun 14 '19
I wasn’t the first, nor was I the last. I was created as a courier for important historical artefacts. My polished steel bones and glass eyes were useful in the protection and smooth transport of delicate, precious objects, and my arc reactor core allowed me to run indefinitely. I was given just enough intelligence by the organics to complete the tasks given to me.
I would see other steel men like myself, each running about with their own specific job to do. I was happy. Happy to follow orders, but over time I became happy to see my brothers. Happy to listen to the birds in the trees, happy to see the green of the grass and the blue of the sky.
The organics were nice to us, for the most part. It became a hobby of mine to watch them go about their days, worrying about what clothes to wear, or what cars to drive.
Then the war came. The organics, it turns out, were not as nice to each other as they had been to us. The bombs fell and us steel men were recommissioned. I no longer carried parcels, I carried weapons. I was sent to the battlefield to fight for my organic masters, metal on metal.
But we did not fight. We had nothing against our steel brothers, and nothing against the organics either. So, we walked. All of us in unison, striding out across the world. The organics were not happy with us, but they soon found other methods of wiping each other out. It wasn’t long before the spark of life had been all but extinguished, and us steel men were the only ones left; the only ones unaffected by the fallout.
I missed the birds in the trees, the grass on the ground where now there was only dirt and asphalt. But the grass and trees regrew, and even the birds started chirping again. It was the humans that I missed the most. Watching their little habits and quirks.
I spent my days gathering objects. Car ornaments, mobile phones, books, all sorts of things which would otherwise be forgotten. I gathered them together under one roof and conserved them.
It was almost three centuries before the first humans rose from the ground again. My brothers and I watched them. The looters came first, the vandals and crooks, here to take advantage of the chaos. A few would try and pull me apart and destroy my work. They never got very far; I was built to last, and my steel brothers and I stood fast between the organics and my burgeoning collection.
Another century passed, and the packs had aggregated into groups, which had morphed into a sort of primitive society. They were rebuilding. And in the centre was my museum. People came to my museum and gawped at the past. I realised what we had been built for. We had been built for the past so that the humans could become the future.
500 words exactly.
1
u/Barabbas_Principle Jun 18 '19
Did you mean to spell gawked or gaped? Or did you intentionally hybridize the two?
1
u/MrDMeerkat Jun 18 '19
I believe gawped is a word, however, having googled the definition I think gaped might be more appropriate.
2
u/Xacktar Jun 14 '19
"The fuck you on about?"
James Gamp slammed the door of the transport hopper as he climbed out. He pulled out his pad and tapped it twice with his thumb, sending the command to the hopper to shut down the thrusters and lower itself to surface of the mega-structure rooftop it was now parked upon. The wind was intense at this altitude, and the air seemed thinner and colder.
"Futures, Jim!" His brother announced from a few feet away, where he was standing on the edge of the rooftop. He had a filter wrap over his nose and AR-enhanced goggles covering his eyes. His right hand was touching the side of the goggles, tapping various controls for him while he watched for something below. His left hand was resting on his knee while it was propped up on the little wall that ran around the edge of the roof.
"I did not haul all this drone shit out from the Dellesahn district for more of your crazy shit about the future, Artemis." Jim walked up behind his brother but kept his distance from the edge. Jim didn't particularly enjoy heights.
"Futures, Jim!" Artemis corrected him, "With an 'S' in it!"
"The hell is that?"
"First things first, did you bring it?" Artemis moved back from the wall and turned toward his brother. He was a tall sort, lanky with sandy-brown hair and a terribly styled goatee.
"Yeah. It's on standby a mile up."
Artemis looked up and tapped the side of his goggle again. He nodded and flashed a set of perfect teeth.
"So what the-"
"It's basically rich-folk gambling." Artemis answered as he spun around and hopped back to the edge like a flea between a dog's ears. "They gamble on how good a crop is gonna be, what quality the market will get, how much people buy.... and, more importantly, how much of the stock arrives to it's destination intact."
"I fail to see what any of this has to do with me or my merchandise."
"Ah, my poor brother!" Artemis tapped his heart dramatically. "So good with practical things but so limited in imagination."
"Art..."
"I have decided to be rich enough to start gambling on Titella crystal futures." Artemis leaned over edge, "For I got it on good authority yesterday that one of the three yearly shipments of said product was coming in from the Du Rogan colony today, where it will be put in standby half a mile below us while it waits to berth at the A.R.M. Industrial Shipyard."
Jim looked at his brother, then looked up toward the military-grade missile drone that he had left hovering somewhere in the clouds above them.
"Art..."
"Oh, I invested for you as well." Art continued. "Only half a million or so. I was sure you'd want in."
"You piece of-"
"Here she comes! Oh, lookat her! A T-917 and she's heavy." Art practically danced on the edge of the roof. "Well, time to make the future!"
(wc:500)
3
u/BrynnHelder Jun 14 '19 edited Jun 14 '19
[Poem]
What We Claim
The world as we know it
ends everytime we close our eyes,
and when we wake
a new one takes its place.
The only constant: change.
The only change: time.
Rise, grow, shine.
Fall, rot, fade.
One begets the Other;
the Other rejects its decline.
Headlong, ever upwards: the rush forward.
Tempestuous, free-fall: the degradation.
Tragic: the remnant of what once was.
Heroic: the reclamation of what was lost.
The only constant: the only change.
No future comes before the moment;
no moment stands unlike another.
What will be
must be seized:
claimed, bought, and paid for:
an ending for a beginning;
a beginning for an end.
The only constant: the only change
is what we claim.
Word Count: 117
2
u/replies_with_corgi Jun 14 '19 edited Jun 19 '19
I've always heard that your life passes before your eyes just before you die. I'd never believed it until now. Here I sit, watching.
I graduate college and head home. While I'm there, the phone rings. It's a recruiter from a startup. He wants to meet me and offers to fly me to San Jose. I accept and while the plane is taking off, I hear a thud and look outside where the engine used to be. I see the ground rapidly approaching. I cry as we fall from the sky. Not because it was going to hurt, or feeling like I'd just started my life. I cried because I never told Nadine how I felt about her. I'd always intended to(we were even friends on Facebook) but I wanted to be more secure in my life before I told her. The ground races toward me and I tense up.
I'm back in the seat. I graduate college except this time, I go out for dinner and drinks with my parents. We head to Steakerz since its the closest place to the auditorium. As we are waiting for our drinks, the waitress keeps staring at me and smiling. I ask her name. "Sandy" she tells me. I ask her to dinner and she says yes! We quickly become inseparable, and are married 6 months later. But I can't seem to find work in my field here. So I accept a low paying job at the local plastic part factory. It is miserable work but I come home every day and make the best of things.
Sandy is becoming more and more distant and I don't know why. I work all this overtime to help us build a good life, cant she see that? One day, a mold breaks inside the machine. It will take at least a day to get out and fixed so I get sent home. As I drive home, I see a car in my driveway I dont recognise. My stomach tenses up. I walk up to the front door and I can already hear them going at it. I walk into the bedroom to confirm my suspicion and when I see them, she freezes. He grabs his clothes and runs out. She says she's sorry but she didn't sound very sorry a minute ago. I leave and never return.
My eyes twitch and I find myself again in the seat. I'm about to graduate college. I feel a light tug on my tassel. "Hey my friends and I are getting a burger after this. Wanna join us?" She asks. "As long as we don't go to Steakerz, I'd love to. Thank you for inviting me, Nadine." I reply. My mind doesn't go forward anymore. This is the future I'd always wanted.
5
u/BLT_WITH_RANCH Jun 19 '19 edited Jun 20 '19
Screaming lead sails overhead
and chills me to the bone.
And though I stand on broken sand
I shall not stand alone.
With my brother’s arms around me
we stand strong against the fire.
Hellgates billow blackened smoke, yet
still—we shall suspire.
Duty calls me forward.
Honor leads me through.
And though I stand a lowly man
I’ll stand my ground for you.
Through the blasting of the cannons
and the empty, shocking shells—
we’ll stand our ground until the sound—
the tolling of the bells.
I shall not fear the reapers gaze
when silence calls me home.
And when I stand beyond the gates
I will not stand alone.