Science Fiction Microstory Contest discussion
Congrats to Chris Nance, six time champion of the Science Fiction Microstory Contest
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Very well written, Chris. Congratulations.
A super story, Chris. Congratulations to you! This was a fine read for all of us.
Congrats, Chris! Good job and a great read.
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-C
Yay! Thanks so much! I must admit, it's very meaningful to me, given the great stories and talent this month. :)
Congratulations, Chris, on a fine piece of writing!
Thanks again everyone! I've posted the new contest. It's pretty basic this month.This Month's Theme:
Conflict on Mars (However you'd like: political, military, terrorist, economic, social...etc.)
Required Elements:
An unexpected ally (We'll keep it simple.)
I'll add my congratulations to the pile. Nice work!!
Justin wrote: "I'll add my congratulations to the pile. Nice work!!"Thanks Justin! :)
by Chris Nance
It was unexpected, the smells different…cold, sterile.
Deep inhalation, air wafted dead, my throat ached from protracted disuse. Ancient eyes adjusted to my sight’s return and a room I barely recognized materialized before me. This wasn’t the place I’d left. A coating of dust, neglected walls, had I slept too long this time?
Centuries were like minutes, fleeting when away. The sleep of countless years, I’d lived long enough, my life in snippets. An observation or sample here, a notation there, then sleep. There was a time when dreams of immortality were only that, and its quest drove us across vast oceans, even galaxies, ultimately concluding with eternal life to be impossible, death inescapable. Even so, we’d circumvented it, prolonged inevitability in a way…used it for ourselves.
Distant ages, ancient times, just a recent memory. I was often down for centuries, so I’d become accustomed to change – eroded landscapes, crumbling ruins, the aging of things once new. Kings rose. Empires fell. The growth of mankind peaked as humanity reached the heavens.
For me, it was only yesterday, countless decades actually though, to be true. Watcher, keeper, chronicler, mine was the sleep of prolonged life, though not really, arranged to awaken when each moment was right. A witness to the ages – my obsession, my blessing, maybe my curse.
Creaking bones dragged by cramped muscles, fingers shifted first, then my arms. Weak from immobility and timelessness, I rolled onto my side, angling myself upright. Head spinning, blood vessels constricted against gravity, returning flow to my brain. At least the room was dim, easier on tired eyes.
Cold feet on a colder floor, I found my bearings, rolling my shoulders to loosen up. “How long this time?” I wondered, then supposed, “Too long.” Ambient lighting, possible daylight, crept through deeper crevasses from beyond my little alcove. It seemed I’d just retreated, the somnolence field alluring. “Oh, if my colleagues could see me now. What would they say?”
Then, reality set in. “The fools have done it again.” A heavy sigh, I eased from my bed to the closet. The once finely carved Babylonian doors were decrepit now, mostly rotted away. They dropped from the jam and broke into pieces on the stone floor. The Egyptian, Laotian, even New York designer clothing inside were neither fit for gentleman nor pauper, disintegrating in my hand. And my collection, a museum of priceless antiquities, turned to dust.
I returned to my bed, my prized somnolence field. Programmed to awaken me during times of great unrest or substantive change, an emergency lockdown suggested an unforeseen apocalypse, any additional growth quelled, nothing more to observe. That’s why I’d overslept. “A million years?” I doubted. It could have been forever, had I not been so careful every time. I always reset the alarm.
My attention turned to the vault, a genetic library contained therein, still intact and fully functional, like my bed, designed to last an eternity, if necessary. I brushed the dust away, the diagnostics thankfully in the green.
The manual controls to my chamber were heavy with age, still I trudged up the incline to rediscover the daylight I’d missed. “The fools.” I had my confirmation, disheartened by the long devastated landscape – barren rock, lifeless dirt. “Every time, the same way – destruction. It seems the creatures of Earth just can’t stay alive for very long.”
“Sol Observer,” the chip in my wrist suddenly spoke.
“I’m here,” I replied.
“We detected a deactivation of your somnolence field. What is your status?”
“It seems like they were just getting started,” I lamented, revealing, “Humanity has terminated.”
“Then, your chronicle is complete?” the controller asked.
It was a serious question with a solemn finality. “Just data to pour over. A shame really. Such an interesting species, after all. I think I’d like to give them another go, if you don’t mind. See what they can really do. Maybe this time give them a little nudge here and there.”
“Sol Observer, you’re aware of the regulations. And this was the third round.”
“I know, I know,” I admitted, retreating below ground once more, entering my clearance code into the vault interface. Readying a new genetic cascade, it was available at my command. “But I’d like to get approval for an exception this time. They have so much potential. Our finest work yet, I think. I promise, no direct overt interference.” Fingers crossed.
A pause, then, “Authorization granted. Do you require additional supplies?”
“A few repairs would do nicely. Oh, and some new clothes, thanks.”