Chris Nance (Phoenix, AZ)'s comments from Science Fiction Microstory Contest Showing 181-200 of 536

Chris’s comments from the Science Fiction Microstory Contest group.

Tom wrote: "I'd go with black holes, Chris. Maybe, accelerated time fields that age stars into black holes very rapidly. Get enough black holes started, they not only gobble up stars, their gravitational mass ..."

Both good ideas. I'd have to figure out a way to make this a more villainous threat, given the nature of the adventure story I'm writing.

Jot wrote: "Does it have to be for the whole Universe, not just a galaxy?"

Yes, the galactic threat was my second book (and defeated). I need something bigger. My villain needs to be a clandestine threat that the first villain inadvertently released into an unsuspecting universe. And this is a sci-fi/science fantasy adventure, so outlandish might be okay.

This may be a little off topic, but maybe I can get some help from the group. I'm working on a manuscript and need a convincing threat to the universe. Something big (enough to destroy the entire universe). And I'd like to avoid the familiar tropes of total power, assimilation, or annihilation, if possible. I need something new. Do any of you guys have an idea for an ultimate evil - sentient, inanimate, artificial or otherwise, that hasn't been done to death? This is for the third book of an MG sci-fi series I'm writing. I'd appreciate any input, no matter what, because I'm just stumped here for something original. Thanks!

Whoa, a trifecta! lol. Congrats everyone! ;)

Paula wrote: "continuing with some (too) short critiques--
---Justin, that was a great surprise ending, following a well-constructed civilization. And you had indeed adequately foreshadowed the end, too; well do..."

Thanks so much Paula! :)

Justin wrote: "It's a great story Chris, and chilling in its menace. My daughter is a Type I diabetic, and the running joke in diabetes research is the cure is always just 5 to 10 years away. You know in Canada y..."

Thanks Justin! Sorry for the late response. I was out of town. I was also thinking about something similar, as far as always being on the verge of a cure but just never reaching it.

Tom wrote: "Very good story, Chris. One of your best, in my opinion."

High praise! Thanks, Tom! :)

Mine's up.

The Cure

My coffee was cold, the last of an old brew from earlier that day. It was late and I was exhausted, though unable to shake an inescapable sense of impending discovery. Waiting anxiously, I digested the day’s news on my phone, skimming through an article about another researcher missing – this time a professor named Fulton from Georgia Tech. I met him once. Brilliant guy. Thought maybe he’d beat me to the cure.

A beep from the centrifuge and I rubbed the fatigue from my eyes, setting my smartphone aside. My focus returned to my work and, micropipette clenched in a trembling hand, I transferred the sample over, peering into the oculars.

“Impossible,” my spine tingled, the chill of unexpected realization. Scanning the slide again to be sure, I compared it to the control. Nearly seventy different genotypes, I referenced every one. It was too incredible to be true, but there it was. “That’s it!” I announced to a darkened, lonely lab.

Groping desperately for my phone, my hands almost didn’t work. Fat thumbs stumbled over miniature letters and I mistyped, ‘Eureja!’ to my assistant. ‘Call me when u get this.’

The phone rang almost immediately and I blurted out, “Sophie! Get down here right away! We did it!” Then, I hung up without so much as a ‘good-bye.’

Fifteen minutes later, the intercom chirped. “You’re quick!” I exclaimed over the speaker and hit the security button. Within exactly the time it takes to stroll from the security checkpoint to my desk, I was surprised to be met by a half dozen suited agents.

“Who are you?” I demanded. “You’re not my assistant.”

“Dr. Martin Nelfman?” one of them asked plainly.

“Yeah, that’s me. Listen, this is a secured facility. You’re not supposed to be here.”

The same man, his gaze hidden behind smudged glasses brushed by dark greasy hair, said, “We’d like to see your research, please.”

“What? Why?” It was a peculiar request, to be sure. Then I realized, “Why now?”

“Because you did it,” the agent explained. “You solved the puzzle.”

“You mean cancer,” I confirmed.

“Does it work?”

“Yes. A universal treatment. Every form, in any stage.”

“Excellent.” He motioned his men ahead. “We’ll be taking your research material immediately, all discoveries and potential breakthroughs.

“What?! By whose authority?” I struggled against them as agents began collecting my equipment.

“That’s classified.” The man flashed an identification, though I hardly had a glimpse, maybe FBI or CDC. I couldn’t tell. “We’ll need everything – computers, lab equipment, samples, any and all printed materials, of course.”

“But you can’t! You’ve no right!” I was outraged. “Do you know what this discovery means?”

His grin was almost arrogant. “We know.”

“This is the cure for cancer! We can eradicate it!”

“We’ve been able to cure human cancer for over a century,” the man revealed. “A fairly simple disease for humans, really. A remedial pathogen introduced into the genome to screen for potential solutions.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I was confused.

“We’ve had many cures,” he clarified.

“Then why…?”

“Why hasn’t it been eliminated? They always ask that.”

“They?”

“The other scientists whose work we’ve confiscated.” He sighed heavily, “Imagine a world without disease.”

“It would be a miracle.”

“Would it?” he corrected. “Surging populations, mass starvation, political upheaval, dwindling resources, environmental devastation. World leaders would never allow it.”

“A pretty cynical view,” I noted.

“But realistic. Research is the opiate of the masses, and disease, the limiter. You’ve already seen what antibiotics have done. Logarithmic population growth, famine, world war, climate change, despotism. Antibacterials slipped by us. Without disease, you humans would destroy yourselves.”

“You humans?”

He stepped from the shadows. “At least, your research won’t go to waste, Doctor.” The man tipped his glasses forward, staring back at me with strange reptilian eyes. “The Thelxan Imperium has been nearly decimate by a pathogen almost identical to your cancer. All the other treatments have failed. Perhaps yours will save them.”

“And what about me? My work?”

“Well, cancer’s not going to cure itself,” he winked. “I’m sure there’s more to discover. You’ll receive a full grant for all your future research, of course, as long as we have your assurances that this never happened, and we were never here.”

“And my assistant?”

The man chuckled. “She works for us.”

“I could go public.”

“They always say that, too” he grinned devilishly, easing my phone forward, the article I’d been reading popping up. “Dr. Fulton would painfully advise you differently, I’m sure.”

Way to go Tom! Great story!

Paula wrote: "Karl, that is a terrific story--well conceived, well carried through, and beautiful paced!
Chris--wonderful story. I--and I'm sure many of us--really identify with the character most the way throug..."

Thanks, Paula. I considered more dialogue but just couldn't get it to work with the story I had. As it was, I had to trim over 200 words from my original draft. Lol. :)

Different

“She’s so weird,” they whispered. “It’s no wonder, no one likes her.”

I pretended it didn’t bother me, but it did. The snide comments, the eye rolling, the cautious distance everyone kept when I was there. I was just too different, in ways I could never change.

My father was old, but loved me very much, and when he signed me into school, he assured me times had changed. I had rights. They couldn’t keep me out anymore, which I suppose made everything that much worse – being the only girl like me in a school where I didn’t belong. Dad said not to talk like that…that I was made for something more. Sure, I could solve complex equations that baffled even my teachers, could itemize a series of clinical data in a flash. They said I was brilliant. The girls at school said I was dumb.

Dad claimed it was just envy…they could never be what I am. But I didn’t buy it. I would have given anything to be like the other kids…you know, the ‘normal’ ones. At least they had friends. Instead, I turned to my strengths. Excelling at academics, I raised the bar and skewed every curve. I figured that would really show them, but it didn’t help at all. They despised me even more.

It all peaked when, one day after lunch, a stink-bomb exploded when I opened my locker, covering me in a stench like garbage doused in skunk. The kids kept even further away after that, and I was devastated. They were all just so terrible, so mean. But I was going to get back at them and, in return, I placed a simple bug from the biology lab in the cafeteria’s mashed potatoes. Almost everyone was out for a week, though they all pretty much knew it was me.

A few days later, while walking to class, some kids swiped my backpack, setting it on fire in front of the school. Infuriated, I created a miniature EM pulse that fried everyone’s electronics. Next, they locked me in the bathroom during exams, so I set off the sprinkler system during the regional basketball championships. It went on and on.

Finally, on a Wednesday afternoon, a couple of masked bullies ambushed me on my way home. They beat me nearly senseless and I probably would have died, if not for my father, who found me when I didn’t arrive home on time. He pulled the thugs off, taking a few punches of his own, and we both limped home together. He spent the next week working on me, though I had no idea, he was nursing serious wounds of his own. His age didn’t help and he finally succumbed.

No one cared. ‘Crazy scientist,’ they called him. I was the only one at his funeral.

Thankfully, I was taken care of, but there was no sympathy when I returned to school. Resentment had festered while I was away, written on nearly every face. Even the teachers were against me. They whispered how I didn’t belong, that I should be with my own kind. It wasn’t fair to the other students, they said. In the hallways, the stairwell, the cafeteria…everyone, everywhere…it was all just all too much, and I suddenly broke down, retreating to the only quiet spot I knew – the janitorial closet.

I sank to my knees in despair, but there in the shadows, I discovered something, someone not unlike me, equally oppressed. Inactivated in the corner, the robotic custodian stared lifelessly back. I’d never actually seen him, he only worked at night, but something in his lifeless eyes spoke to me, told me to become the change I needed. So, chin up, my circuits recharged, and I rejoined my class, renewed. I powered through the merciless last few weeks with a much better attitude, all the while secretly working to change the world.

Finally, I succeeded.

That was six months ago, and no one ridicules me now. Instead, I’m the center of envious attention, the highlight of every room I enter. I’m heaped with endless praise and command the conversation in every glorious setting.

They love me.

And they better. Because my nanobots have covered the Earth by now, infecting every human alive with a crippling neurological suppressor. I’m saddened it came to this, but if they won’t choose to love me, circuits and all, I’ll make them. Besides, anyone who manages to step out of line, will discover what oppression truly means.

David wrote: "I am not a regular on this site, but Chris's story, "Fixer-Upper," is brilliant! Congratulations and well-deserved."

Well, I'm not sure sure about that, but I do appreciate the compliment. Thanks David! :)

Thanks, guys. The next month's contest is posted. :)

The following rules are from Jot Russell, moderator for this contest:

To help polish our skills and present a flavour of our art to other members in the group, I am continuing this friendly contest for those who would like to participate. There is no money involved, but there is also no telling what a little recognition and respect might generate. The rules are simple:

1) The story needs to be your own work and should be posted on the goodreads (GR) Discussion board, which is a public group. You maintain responsibility and ownership of your work to do with as you please. You may withdraw your story at any time.

2) The stories must be 750 words or less.

3) The stories have to be science fiction, follow a specific theme and potentially include reference to items as requested by the prior month's contest winner.

4) You have until midnight EST on the 22nd day of the month to post your story to the GR Science Fiction Microstory Contest discussion. One story per author per month.

5) After, anyone from the LI Sci-Fi group or the GR Science Fiction Microstory Discussion group has until midnight EST of the 25th day of the month to send me a single private vote (via GR or to author.jotrussell@gmail.com) for a story other than their own. This vote will be made public once voting is closed. Voting is required. If you do not vote, your story will be disqualified from the contest. You don't need a qualifying story to cast a vote, but must offer the reason for your vote if you don’t have an entry.

6) To win, a story needs at least half of the votes, or be the only one left after excluding those with the fewest votes. Runoffs will be run each day until a winner is declared. Stories with vote totals that add up to at least half, discarding those with the fewest votes, will be carried forward to the next runoff election. Prior votes will be carried forward to support runoff stories. If you voted for a story that did not make it into the runoff, you need to vote again before midnight EST of that day. Only people who voted in the initial round may vote in the runoffs.

7) Please have all posts abide by the rules of GR and the LI Sci-Fi group.

8) For each month, there will be three discussion threads:
a) Stories - For the stories and the contest results only.
b) Comments - For discussions about the stories and contest. Constructive criticism is okay, but please avoid any spoilers about the stories or degrading comments directed towards any individuals. If you want to suggest a change to the contest, feel free to start a discussion about the idea before making a formal motion. If another member seconds a motion, a vote can be held. I will abstain from voting, but will require a strong two-thirds majority to override my veto.
c) Critiques - Each member can provide at most one critique per story, with a single rebuttal by the author to thank the critic and/or comment to offer the readers the mind set of the story to account for issues raised by the critique. Critiques should be of a professional and constructive manner. Feel free to describe elements that you do and don't like, as these help us gain a better perspective of our potential readers. Remarks deemed inflammatory or derogatory will be flagged and/or removed by the moderator.

9) The winner has THREE days after the start of the new month to make a copy of these rules and post a new contest thread using the theme/items of their choosing. Otherwise, I will post the new contest threads.

**********

This Month's Theme:

Deep down, you always suspected you were different...

Required Elements:

Conflicted belief(s)

Hoorah! Nice start to the weekend, lol!

Tom wrote: "Critique of "Fixer Upper" by Chris

A wonderfully funny cosmic black comedy of real estate wheeler-dealering and impending apocalypse.

The story starts out as what appears to be an ordinary real e..."

Tom, thanks so much for your review and I really appreciate the time you put into it. As always, your reviews are extremely helpful!

Tom wrote: "Chris wrote: "Mine's up. Went a little different direction, so I hope it works. :)"

'Loved it, Chris. Phil Dunphy in outer space. Very nice. Also reminded me of "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.""

Thanks, Tom! :)

Chris’s Comments (group member since Nov 04, 2015)

Science Fiction Microstory Contest