Blog Archives
Edition 9: Blockbuster by Rik Hoskin
I’m sure all of us, at one time or another, have considered the permeating influence of the film industry on our world, beyond entertainment. We usually conclude that it is profound, and as far back as the great propaganda machines of the ‘inter-war’ years in the last century. Rik Hoskin provides us with a fresh insight. GH
The sky was a rainbow mosaic above the two combatants. It shimmered with the haze of oily pollutants as thick, black smoke belched from the numerous, anthill-like structures that dotted the barren landscape. They faced each other across the chasm between two of the pollution-spewing towers, their energy lances engaged, their force shields powered up. The fate of the very galaxy depended, Matt knew, on the outcome of this, their final battle. The greatest warriors of the two most powerful religions would clash for one last, decisive time, and finally Matt would learn which philosophy would govern forevermore: the White Path of morality, or the sinister Black Path, with its evil ways of destruction and oppression.
With a swelling of sound and fury, the skies broke with flashes of light, the deep rumbling of thunder shaking the witnesses to the depths of their stomachs. The two combatants leapt, inhumanly high, lances raised. And, in mid-air, ball lightning electrifying the atmosphere around them, they met.
And the screen went black and the spell was broken as the lights slowly came back up in the screening room of the Howard Studios ranch. Several members of the press who had been invited to this conference broke into a smattering of applause. At the front of the room, director Benjamin Howard offered an embarrassed smile.
Edition 9: Better Than Everything by Malon Edwards
The technology of the future can realize the dreams of today, but we have to be careful that we don’t mistake them for nightmares. In this story Malon Edwards paints a vivid future where a form of immortality has been achieved, but it comes at a terrible price in the face of one of humanity’s most fundamental emotions, love. GH
“So, I’ve been thinking,” I start, and then stop because this is the conversation we’ve been avoiding most of her life.
But Jae Lyn doesn’t miss a beat. “You keep doing that, and you’re going to break something.”
She smiles and that dimple at the left corner of her mouth on her chin peeks out at me. More than anything, I’ll miss kissing it.
No. I can’t think like that.
I take a carton of apple-cranberry juice out of the refrigerator, pour us both a glass, and proceed to wipe that smile right off her face.
“You can’t die.”
“Don’t.”
Edition 10: That Blasts the Roots of Trees Is My Destroyer by David Halpert
Charlie is determined to breathe easy. He wants to create a new life for himself, away from the daily struggles. Information is always the key to power and everything has its price. A great piece of dystopian science fiction. SY
Charlie Glassman has $3.82 left in his tank. As a result he walks the streets with the same precision as a laser cutting a diamond. On quiet nights you can hear the distant echoes of large-scale industrial pumps all the way from Port Credit extracting oxygen from Lake Ontario, churning, grinding, set along the waterfront like the overgrown placentae of some botched laboratory experiment.
Tenement apartments hugging the Green Zone show their true colors in the sober light of day. Moss and climbing ferns hide the cracked foundations and graffiti courtesy of resident syndicates. Charlie’s disposable Sanyo reads yellow for this district, advising citizens to express caution when venturing out in broad daylight. Still he carries a small arsenal: his taser, his collapsible baton. He finds guns crude even in these disparate times and never ventures past curfew.
The sky is its own membrane, a hazy orange, veined with smoke. Charlie wipes a thin layer of grime off a pane of bulletproof Lucite. In the windowed glare of a William Sonoma he checks his mask is firmly clamped over his face for the third time since leaving his apartment, halting momentarily, but not before being threatened by the turbaned shop-owner, a sawed-off shotgun in his hands followed by a string of Hindi obscenities. The bastard even has the gall to step out his storefront before pressure equalizes. Charlie is suddenly blasted with a wall of cool air—try explaining that one to the Federal Reserve come tax time.
Edition 11: Requiem in Diamond by D. A. D’Amico
Too much carbon in the atmosphere and humans, in all their arrogance, thought they could fix it. Their solution now threatens all life on earth. A human look at impending apocalypse and the frailty of humanity. SY
Even the custom optics didn’t show Clarisse the subtle spectral difference between the Crust and the uncoated surfaces along the fynbos. She thought she could detect a slight glistening in the leaves of distant myrtle trees, or a liquid shimmer in the low yellowbush and bredasdorp along the border of the Olifants River, but there’d be no way to tell until it was too late.
“It’s ungodly quiet.” Peter Marsh squinted into the distance, shielding his eyes with a slender brown hand. Clarisse had always thought him a bit effeminate, but she’d seen him with at least seven women in the last few days, whooping it up in town as the world slowly ended.
She wouldn’t have pictured Peter as one of the ones who’d celebrate the catastrophe. With his pinched features, dark brooding complexion, and fussy habits, she’d always imagined him going out with a whimper, not a bang. He seemed more the bookish type, not a pre-apocalyptic Don Juan.
Edition 11: Rabble by Arley Sorg
Soldiers are drawn from the incarcerated to fight against the fast and bloodthirsty Trayg that threaten to overwhelm their world. When they offer them advantage in the form of upgrades, the prisoners would be fools to reject any help. In the war against invasion, isn’t any advantage worth testing? SY
Darrin shifted in his bunk, struggled against coarse blankets. Sleep teased the corners of his eyes. Thick drowsiness crept under his skin.
She pooled, bright white and red, a head splitting star in congealed blackness.
Slick moonlight beaded in her hair, blood drops bright on her blouse. Her last, surprised breath as she crumpled in his arms.
One night six years ago. A night he used to not care about. It wasn’t even the worst he’d done.
He swung his feet onto cold floor, planted his sweaty face in his hands.
Edition 12: Black Smoker Hero by Rachael Acks
Javier Burtke, miner on a distant world stumbles on a discovery that may change how the world sees the ‘smokers’, the black fields of smoking crevices. This is one area in which he cannot fail again. Rachael Acks was runner-up for the Story Quest competition, and undoubtedly you will see why this great frontier science fiction caught our attention. SY
-begin transcript-
Video log: 04.10.52 1859
The room is plain and small, walls gunmetal gray but partially papered with safety notices, reminders about proper compression procedures, suit checks, what to do in case of hull breach. A man looks into the camera, one rough hand rasping at the black stubble on his square jaw. His hair is in damp, lank curls, glistening with something more viscous than water. The stained name tape over the left breast pocket of his rumpled lime green jumpsuit has ‘Javier Burtke’ stitched into it.
Edition 12: Death in the Dust by Rie Rose
Caruthers has worked the Moon Base for a long time, but a serial murderer is pushing the older administrator. The seemingly unrelated crimes suddenly have a pattern, but are they chasing dervishes in the moon dust? SY
“There’s a body outside Airlock Two.”
“Bloody hell. What happened this time? Bad suit?”
“No suit. Stark naked.”
“Great.” Director Caruthers sighed heavily, shoved his chair back from his desk, and offered his full attention to his visitor. What the hell was going on around here these days? Whatever had possessed him to come to the moon? “Some kid on a dare? Damn twenty-nine second morons. Awful lot of faith to put in a stopwatch.”
Edition 13: Get Rich Quick with Digital Ink by Megan Neumann
When the body is the last frontier for advertising, what will advertisers do to ensure that their return is worth the investment?
I didn’t think our marriage would last after Jake got those ridiculous tattoos. They glowed all night, their messages flickering on the ceiling of our studio apartment: miracle hair growth, free porn, or earn money from home. I’d lay there, my eyes tired from the light. Even when covered with a sheet, I could see them. After all, they were designed to be bright enough to shine through clothing. As the hours of the night passed, the small batteries embedded in his skin lost their power, and the tiny lights dimmed. But by then, it was too late. I hadn’t slept.
“You could wrap your arms in something before you go to bed. Maybe just put on a really thick sweater,” I said, the two of us sitting on the couch, watching TV.
“I’m not going to do that, babe,” he said. “You know I hate anything on my body when I sleep.”
Edition 1: Rationalized by Larry Hodges
“Rationalized” was the winner of the 2011 Story Quest Short Story Contest. Dystopian short fiction has a long history, the modern era examples stretching back to the late 1940s, and some of the best science fiction fall into this sub-genre. The judges of the Story Quest contest determined that Larry Hodges’ piece, Rationalized, took a fresh approach, and carried a clear and brutal message. Hodges, a seasoned wordsmith, asks the question, what do I do if the odds are overwhelmingly against me? I’ll leave the answer to those who read his short story. GH
How nice—to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive.
~ Kurt Vonnegut
It had been a long Saturday morning, but the training was over. Now Dr. Bruce watched Jeremy and his friend Lara as they played games and drank lemonade. Both actions were illegal.
He took a sip of the chemically-created lemonade he made himself. It was a break from the dreary diet of nutricubes and water, the only approved food or drink allowed or needed. He wondered if actual lemon trees still existed.
Jeremy came over. “Dad, where’s the puppy?” he whispered.
They’d “borrowed” it from the puppy farm.
“I kept it a secret like you asked, but when are you going to tell us what it’s for?”
“Soon,” Bruce said.
Edition 1: The Witness by Laura Haddock
“The Witness” was third place prize winner of the 2011 Story Quest Short Story Contest. Laura Haddock is a newcomer to published fiction and the Story Quest judges noted a high level of maturity and polish in her writing. “The Witness” is, in many ways, a classic sci-fi, but projecting readers into a court-room drama, with a most interesting twist. GH
Of course there are ethical implications.
First, the procedure may never be used on children. The filter of childish perception would only confuse. The intellectually disabled are excused as well. And there is no “off” switch. It is understood that the court will wait respectfully for the duration. I think the record is six minutes.
From the beginning there were promising results with Alzheimer’s and neural trauma patients. The mechanical apparatus buzzed day and night in the research centers, with no shortage of volunteers. Once those crafty engineers discovered that the brain could be manipulated to reverse the erasure process—that memories could be rebuilt—there was no turning back.
I don’t know who first thought to use the machinery on corpses, but he must have been one macabre SOB.
Even now, most REBUILD subjects remain incoherent or don’t even revive. One of my own first cases filled screen after screen with gibberish until he finally powered down. After my “Mr. Harrell, I am prosecuting attorney Jack Sullivan,” I saw the lines scrolling at a frantic pace, saying nothing at all.
SQ Mag 
