Science Fiction Microstory Contest discussion
Congrats to our four-way tied champions, J.F., Greg, Chris and Jot.
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Mod
Greg Krumrey
“For she was an artist and he was an engineer with only dreams to share.”
Pascal was thinking, “This level shouldn’t be this hard to beat.” Taking an arm off didn’t faze them. Sever a leg and they crawled. Only decapitation stopped them.
A purple cloak and raven hair flashed by him. With his back protected, he developed a rhythm and began thinning them out. Several minutes later, the last skeleton flopped to the ground, comically holding its own severed head.
He counted eighteen skulls among the bones. But who was the other player?
“Damn. I broke a nail,” she said. He counted thirty-seven skulls, five rodents of unusual size and a Demogorgon littering her side of the field.
He had to know who she was.
“Kira,” she said. She seemed visibly irritated, “I suppose you’re going to tell me how beautiful I am.”
He touched a button on his amulet. “While that statement would be accurate, what I want to know is…”
Suddenly, he was back in the lab, hanging in his VR harness. As first, he thought it was a software glitch that crashed his node. Instead, it was the size of data-dump he triggered from his amulet. It was just like any other until he got to Kira’s avatar. The modeling was exquisite. Her face alone had more than seven thousand polygons to model her expression. No wonder he ran out of space.
He was the highest-level engineer at the company that owned the immersive Game but she mastered more levels than he and possessed weapons and skills he had only read about.
He had to find her.
Pouring through system logs, he both smiled and winced at her response to a serial sexual harasser’s advances. She was clearly not a damsel in distress.
--
“Look at me. What do you see?”
He ignored the extensive modeling of her cheekbones and facial musculature. “I see…age...wisdom.” She smiled slightly and he continued, “Great Joy, tempered by sorrow. You’re you, not an avatar. You’ve mastered Presence!”
--
“Why haven’t you tried to kiss me?
“I saw what happened to the last guy who tried. Logs said you impaled him through the heart with such force that it took a Game Mod to remove your ‘Excalibur’ from that castle wall.”
“Well, I do regret that.”
“Why? He clearly deserved it.”
“I agree, but that was my favorite sword.”
He keyed a sequence on his amulet, caught the sword as it materialized and handed it, hilt first, to her.
She smiled, “I didn’t know you were wizard!”
--
He held her close. “There was beauty all around me, but you gave me eyes to see. My heart was broken but you healed it so I could feel again. My heart is yours if you want it.”
She froze and her face fell. She shrank from him. She said, almost as a whisper, “I…can’t. I…just…can’t,” and vanished.
--
Back in his lab, Pascal remembered a seldom-used feature: Neighborhood teams. Her avatar’s data included her GPS coordinates. Turned out, her ‘neighborhood’ was…a medical complex.
As he read the report he requested from a hacker friend, he felt a sharp pang of sadness. An alert tone announced her return. He strapped in.
--
Dark clouds swirled above the hill from where she hurled bolts of lightning, blasting trees into flaming splinters. He yelled above the howling wind. “I know you don’t have much time left. If you want to die alone, I’ll respect your choice.” As her anger faded, the wind died down. “Without you, all of this is just pixels and algorithms. You made it real for me.”
He continued: “If you don’t want my company, send me away. Or pierce my heart with that blade you are so fond of. Either way will be equally painful.”
--
The kingdom prospered but its Queen was growing weaker.
Her face was ashen. “It is time.” She whispered, “Wait for me.” He thought she must have said “Wait with me.” When she breathed her last, he laid her on the pedestal and closed the glass box.
Two white horses pulled her wagon across the drawbridge and though the throngs lining the road to a clearing in the forest. Armies filled the hills, standing silent and at attention. The air filled with a mournful cry as the dragons wept.
Mod
Chris Nance
The scientists called it ‘The Doorway’ – a brilliantly white, two dimensional glowing enigma, about the size of a door and standing on end in middle of Central Park. The question was, where did it come from? And where did it lead?
When I first saw it, I was on leave visiting my family in Phoenix. It was the hottest summer on record there – fifty two days, nearly two months, over 110. I had just finished a swim when my little niece grabbed me by the hand and dragged me inside. “Come see. Come see,” she said. And there it was on the news, helicopters circling the thing from miles away.
They said it just appeared out of nowhere, blindingly white yet without depth, invisible when viewed on end. The talking heads said they were evacuating the city. My phone rang.
“Crap,” I exclaimed after receiving my orders. “Just put it on the list, I guess.” Between the coronavirus and everything with it, the riots, excessive heat, the entire West Coast basically on fire, it was just one more surprise for the worst year ever. And it was that much worse that it was an election year. 2020 was a flaming dumpster fire, doused in acid – a goddam shitstorm.
Days later, I stood with my team as we eased forward toward the object. The city had been emptied, and we were the only people within twenty miles.
It was blinding. Even behind our tactical sunglasses, we had to shield ourselves from the glare. “You picking up anything, Sanchez?” I asked the corporal.
“No sir,” he replied, reviewing the Geiger reading. “Infrared’s also in the clear.”
“So no radiation and no heat, then,” I replied. “Let’s get the other sensors in place.”
We’d hauled a crate of scientific equipment, everything from special high tech cameras to sensors that could record things I didn’t have a clue about. The scientists had been clear where to place them and I was good at following orders. I also had no illusion that we were anything less than expendable.
“Robert are you there?” a voice, ephemeral, suddenly called my name and I raised my rifle.
“Did you hear that?” I asked of my men, alarmed. They shook their heads, without a clue.
“Robert, are you there?” it asked again. “You have to get out of there, now!”
“Who’s saying that?” I scanned the perimeter nervously.
“You okay, Cap’n?” Rodriguez asked calmly and I backed down.
“Yeah, fine,” I lied, my mind racing.
“Robert, you have to leave before it’s too late!”
“Goddam it! What is that?” I turned circles trying to discover the source, like it was coming from all around me.
“Sir?” one of my men asked.
“You’re close now,” the voice said. “Just a little more, through the doorway.”
I back away.
“No, move closer!”
“You men,” I ordered, “get this equipment set up then establish a perimeter.” Eyes drawn thin, I motioned my corporal over. “Sanchez, can I count on you to watch my back?”
“Absolutely, sir,” he said. “What’s up?”
“I’m hearing someone call my name. I don’t want you to think I’m crazy.”
“Of course not, sir.”
“And I don’t want to alarm the men,” I whispered. “Now, I’m going to inch toward that doorway, and I need you to keep an eye on me. Got it?”
“Affirmative.”
“Robert, times running out!” the voice said.
I leaned my rifle calmly upon one of the crates and drew my sidearm. A quick glance to Rodriguez and he nodded back.
“Just a little closer now!”
I inched in, firmly gripping my pistol.
“Closer,” it said. My nerves sat on edge. “That’s it.” Then, a hint of doubt crossed my mind and I paused. “Oh, hell!”
Before I could react, a pair of arms reached out, pulling me into the light. Then I instantly fell, meeting the unforgiving plating of a metal floor.
“Error. Simulation terminated,” a mechanical notification announced.
Rolling onto my back, I discovered an attractive redhead gazing back at me. “Welcome back. Jesus, that was close.”
“Close?” I wondered, confused.
“You know, he can’t remember yet,” a man with glasses said from behind his console. “It’s gonna take a while after that long in the sim.”
“Oh right.” She crouched to meet me, grinning. “You were in there for nearly 4 hours. Probably felt like 30 years. Anyways, it’s a good thing we pulled you out when we did. That 2020 simulation code really went to hell fast!”
Mod
©2020 by Jot Russell
Thick black smoke billowed from the ground level of the old commercial structure. The scene was chaos, with twisted lengths of thick hose spanned out across its front parking lot. A search team came forward; ripcord pulled and saw blade set upon the metal flange of the doorframe with a blaze. The second man used his halligan to pry the door open, with air rushing in to feed the oxygen-thirsty fire within. The room flashed with flames rolling across the ceiling and out the now open doorway. I looked over at the pump operator and spun my finger to have him to charge the line. Two pats on the shoulder of the nozzle man and we made entry. The room was dark, despite the glow through the thick smoke above. Water plunged through the thermal barrier, cooling the flammable smoke below its ignition temperature. I could feel its intense heat push down through the hood that protected my face, neck and ears.
“Command; hose team one. Fire knocked down on the one-side room. Need a search team to look for extension and another to the second floor for ventilation.”
“Acknowledged, fire knocked down. Search teams making entry.”
Two units entered behind us, each taking a separate hand lead around; crawling deeper into the black abyss. We pushed the line further in to the right to follow and even with the flames extinguished, the heat intensified. While still crouched down, I bounced my knees and felt the floor move a little. Quickly, I pulled my glove back to touch the back of my wrist to the floor.
Shit! “Command, hose team one. The fire is in the base...”
Suddenly, my heavy wet gear became weightless as I plunged through the floor collapse. My leg got caught in the debris and snapped like a twig. The anguished scream was knocked out of me by the impact with the floor amidst the flames. I fought back the pain, the same that was telling me I was still alive, and tried to take a breath. Was it just knocked out of me, or did the fall damage my pack? The thought sent a chill of panic through my blood. Around me were flames, with smoke now collecting up the chimney which I had created. Beyond was blackness, with no sight of a staircase up. I tried again, and this time finally found my breath.
“Mayday; mayday; mayday.” I forced down another breath. “Collapse in first floor room on the one-four side. Captain Roberts down in basement with a broken leg. Need the hose and RIT teams redirected to the basement.”
“Roger that. Sending in the RIT team.”
From above, water streamed in and cooled some of the flames that had started to burn the skin on my arm. But as soon as it started, it stopped and I cursed. Then through the smoke that billowed out of the hole, I could see a loop of the hose being pushed down toward me. Quickly, I freed my leg and threw my chest on the hose, wrapped my arms around it and grabbed my pack frame. From above, my team pulled on both ends of the loop. Slowly they dragged me up until I could feel all the heat that tried to escape with me through the hole, until it started to burn. The pain was immense, and I thought to let go, but suddenly a hand reached down and grabbed my pack just before I blacked out.
**
“Captain, can you hear me?”
I came to. “What happened? Is everyone okay?”
“A glitch in the simulation; someone accidentally set the difficulty to ten.”
“Simulation? What do you mean, simulation? How’s my crew?”
The chief motioned around the large white room. “Your crew is fine.” Each of them lay in a bed with their heads placed in a large circular machine.
“What the…? They told me about this, but how the heck… it was so real.” I looked at my burnt arm, but the skin was fine. I lifted my leg and it raised up without pain. Holy crap! Why didn’t you tell us before sticking us in some type of drill from hell?”
“That would ruin the realistic nature of the drill.”
I nodded. “And how’d I do?”
“Well, your team did great, especially Brooks the nozzle man for pushing that hose down to save you. You might, however, consider moving off a compromised floor instead of radioing first to tell us about it.”
“Acknowledged.”
Good stories indeed, guys! Congratulations!
Mod
by J.F. Williams
The once-shaved head of the lying youth had already grown a fuzzy crown of hair, obscuring the iron crosses and swastika tattoos. His body lay quiet except for the constant fluttering of his eyelids and an occasional, tortured grimace.
"How long, doctor?" she pleaded. "How long till my Erik…"
"We can't know," he said. "We can keep them alive for years. Few have regained consciousness."
"Is he a vedge?" The bluntness of the word made her cringe upon hearing it.
"No. There's a lot of brain activity. When he was shot with this implant." He pointed to a small welt on the boy's left temple. "That forced him into a simulation. It's called 'The Landscape'. We don't know who's running it. All we know is that we can't remove it, or block the signal. It's the only thing keeping him from becoming a…"
#
Erik crouched in the mud alongside his friend. The taunters flew over them, screeching.
"It's over there," said Justin. "If you're willing." He pointed to a red brick building that glowed in the frequent lightning strikes of the continuous night.
"That's all open ground! I'll be taunted. I could die! Are you sure that's the place?"
"That's what I'm told. That's the only escape. If it is."
"Come with me, Justin! It's worth it, man!"
"Not me."
"You don't believe it, do you?"
Justin shook his head. Seeing the taunters gone, he stood up and raced back to the hovels.
#
"Calm down, young man," the old woman held him under his armpits and dragged him inside. "The taunters can't kill you. They just deliver pain." She shuddered. "Have some tea, maybe a piece candy." She offered him a flowered teacup. Her smile, so beneficent, Erik mustered one in response.
"Is this the escape?" he said. "Have I made it?"
"Oh, no, no." An old man wagged his finger and offered him a hard candy. "Take this. It's good. Down the hallway is a door but hold still, you can't open it."
Erik ran to the door, nearly slipping on the linoleum. He wrestled with the knob and banged his fist. The door didn’t budge. He ran back to the old couple, ready to grab them by the collars of their sweaters, but their smiles calmed him.
"How did you get here, son?" said the old women.
Erik didn't want to say. He and his boys had been trashing a cemetery. These old folks wouldn't understand. "We were just walking at night when this guy comes out from behind the bushes and shoots me in the head. Am I dead? Is this hell?"
The couple laughed. "No," said the old man. "You're alive, boy. Just stuck in The Landscape."
"Did someone shoot you guys?"
They looked at each other. "Tell him, Pinkas," said the woman.
"Nah, we found this place. In our travels. We don't like this place, it's a bad idea, but we, I guess we feel we belong here."
"I think he's ready, Pinkas."
"Alright."
They took Erik by each hand and walked him down the hallway. It was a few minutes walk, but they filled his head with stories. They spoke of the camps, of families separated, children lied to and abandoned, people fearing to speak, friends who turned away, and deaths, and the stench of death. As they reached the door, Erik was in tears. Pinkas grasped the knob, and it opened easily. Erik motioned his companions to go ahead of him.
"No, boy," said Pinkas. "You can leave but we won't. You are a living, breathing young man. We are just," he looked around and stretched out his arms, "stardust."
"Pinkas thinks he is a poet," said the woman giggling. "I tell you. We lived and died. Good lives we had. When we got old, some smart people recorded our memories, of the war. Many cameras, many questions. Later, we get digitalized; we get loose on the internet, we find this place. Whoever made this thought they made it because of us but we know this is a bad place. You leave but we will stay. We are just memories, son, and we only ask one thing: that you never forget."