Science Fiction Microstory Contest discussion
October 2020 - Science fiction Microstories Contest (Stories Only)
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THE ROADBy Tom Olbert
1969 –
David sighed, the wind blowing through his long hair. He strummed his guitar, the snow-capped mountains in the distance beckoning him to freedom as he trudged along the highway, towards Canada.
He paused to rest, sitting on the guard rail and taking a swig from his canteen. His stomach growled.
That’s when he heard it. A sound like nothing he’d heard before. Going right through every fiber of him. Like a sweet caress and like a lance through his heart, all at once. He stood, feeling a bit uneasy. That’s when he saw it. Rising up through the ground. One huge silver lance, like a giant arrow head, sharp and tapering like a needle, wider at the base. Higher and higher into the mid-day sun it rose … fifty yards…a hundred? ? It didn’t break the earth or the asphalt… just rose through it like a ghost.
Damn, he wasn’t even high! What the hell was it? There was a searing blue-white-silver flash…
#
David rubbed his head. It was night, morning just peeking over the horizon. He felt the warmth of a fire and smelled fresh coffee. His mouth watered at the smell of beans sizzling in a pan. “Rise and shine, little bro,” a man’s voice said.
David shook himself awake. A man with long grey hair and a long grey beard sat opposite him, on the other side of the campfire. The pale morning light washed over the faded camouflage fatigue jacket the old guy wore. A peace medallion dangled from a string of large beads over his ragged tie-died T-shirt… …and on his lapel, an old, tarnished Purple Heart medal. Shadows stirred behind him, in what was clarifying now as a jungle. Huge shadows. And, a sound like cows chewing their cud. David’s eyes widened as gigantic long-necked dinosaurs munched the dense tropical ferns, just beyond the firelight. David rubbed his eyes, thinking he was still dreaming.
“Eat up, bro,” his host said, ladling beans into a tin cup and handing it to David. David opened the spoon from his pocket knife and ate greedily. David glanced up nervously at the dino’s. “Don’t mind the bronto’s, bro…they only eat plants.” The old man strummed a guitar. The sound was beautiful, like…like the sound David had heard on the road. “You’re still on the road, bro…’road through time.”
“How’d you know…”
“What you were thinking?” He smiled. “Been there, done that, little bro. See, that was an alien ship you saw back there. Moves between dimensions. You got caught in its wake and knocked outside of time. Quantum space, they call it. Well, dawn’s breakin’…” He doused the fire with his coffee and slung his pack over his shoulder. As he stood, David saw the old guy’s legs were mechanical. “Let’s hit the road, kid.” He strummed his guitar…
David found himself walking through glaciers…wooly mammoths and Neanderthals… He saw the pyramids rise around him. Roman legions…crusaders…cavalry and Indians... time blew past him like a summer breeze…
He saw the world consumed in mushroom clouds, cities dissolving into ash. “What the hell…”
“2023 A.D., bro,” the old guy said. He strummed his guitar again, the music bending time as the firestorms raged… “See, a spoiled rich white boy got himself elected prez, he sold us out to the Russians, and….well, you know.”
“Oh, man…downer.” David played a sad tune. “Why’d you show me this, man?”
“Because, you’re on the wrong road, little bro. You can stop all this if you let me take you back to a fork in the road, and set you on the right path. But, I gotta warn ya…It’d cost. Big.”
David played, the world in ashes around him. “Not more than this, man. Do it.”
#
1969 -
David ran through the jungle in Vietnam, shells exploding all around him. He ran for the evac choppers but…one of his buddies went down, shot. David got him up, one arm around his shoulders, and helped him towards the LZ. David looked into the blood-streaked black face of the young man and glanced at his name tag. Ryder. Never even met the guy. He got him to the medic and went back for another guy just as the shell hit.
#
2023 –
Old, grey and legless, David listened to President Ryder's speech in front of the Washington Monument before cheering crowds. David smiled, fingering his Purple Heart.
He strummed his guitar, and time flowed on into forever…
The Last SortieBrandt Tucker sat on the porch of his prefab, sipping a cold one and resting his well-worn boots on a dingy wicker ottoman. Evenings on the outskirts were always quiet – just the way he liked it. Squinting up through the deepening red twilight he could easily make out Phobos and Deimos, and beyond that, Earth and Luna.
It hadn’t always been that way of course. There was a time when he enjoyed the hectic life of a transporter, running critical freight between Central and its outlying settlements, but those days were over. A steady stream of alcohol helped ease the bitterness of forced retirement. Sometimes it required more than one application, but tonight one beer seemed to suffice.
He was just about to turn in when he heard the rising whine of a vehicle making its way up the winding path to his home. Since no one ever came to visit, he unsnapped his holster and checked the charge on his repeater. There were a few in town who still held grudges. The ground car pulled up in a cloud of dust and flashing lights. A man in an impeccable black suit exited and strode purposefully towards the dilapidated domicile.
“You must have a real burr up your ass to come all the way out here Connor,” said Tucker.
“Love what you’ve done with place Brandt.”
“Screw you. Whaddya want?”
“Unfortunately, your help.”
“I’m retired. Remember? Courtesy of you.”
“Yes, well, I’m here to un-retire you.”
“I think ‘take this job and shove it’ comes to mind.”
“You haven’t even heard my offer.”
“Go find Anderson or Franks, I’m sure they can handle whatever it is you need.”
“Already did. They’re both dead. I hate to admit it, but you were the best.”
“What’s the matter? AI let you down? I told you those things couldn’t find the road much less stay on it.”
“The rigs aren’t getting through and we don’t know why,” Connor offered. “Supplies are reaching critical levels at many of the outlying settlements...”
Tucker yawned.
“If my offer isn’t generous enough, I’ve been authorized by the governor to invoke the Critical Personnel and Capabilities Act if necessary.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would. Take compensation or be conscripted.”
Tucker blew out his breath in exasperation.
“Fine, you win. But I want my old rig back, not one of those automated monstrosities. I don’t need an AI second guessing my every move.”
“We thought as much. It’s already standing by,” said Connor.
“I’ll grab my coat.”
***
It was a reunion between old friends when Tucker slid into the rig’s cockpit and deftly ran through the startup sequence. The cab still smelled exactly the way he remembered. With all systems green across the board, he pushed the throttles forward and felt eighteen, six-meter tires bite into Martian soil. Ignoring the navi-computer and its highlighted waypoints, he pointed the rig out to where the invading grasses of Earth gave way to relentless Martian sand. The route was etched in his memory like a well-worn path.
“Ranger One this is Central. Comm check.”
“Acknowledged, reading you five-by-five,” answered Tucker, immediately muting his onboard mics.
The rig gently undulated beneath him, rolling across the Martian dunes like a leviathan of old – and just as heavy. He adjusted his seat, settled in for the long-haul and scanned the horizon. The rig’s sensors looked beyond even that but detected nothing except sand and rock for kilometers on end. Tucker’s brow furrowed.
***
The first three deliveries went smoothly. Grateful settlers offered him homebrew and home-cooked meals, which he politely declined. While driving Brandt Tucker was strictly business. Besides, he could always collect on his way back. Three hours later, Tucker wondered if he would ever sit on the porch of his prefab again. He had no idea where he was, only that the road had suddenly disappeared from beneath his rig and sent them both plummeting into a yawning chasm not on any map. Fortunately the rig’s reinforced cab had protected him – barely, but escaping to the surface was going to be difficult. Extricating himself from the rig’s safety harness, he stood on the nearly shattered windshield and surveyed his situation. With a small flashlight he could see two other smashed rigs not far away, the final resting places for Anderson and Franks. Then it dawned on him what had happened, and it was all he could do to keep from laughing hysterically. He had driven into the largest pothole ever recorded by man!!
(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2020
Reviews/critiques welcome
Mod
©2020 by Jot Russell
John backed up the truck and stopped just before reaching the capture plate of the fifth-wheel camper. He got out and raised the camper legs just enough to line up with the hitch, reentered, and reversed the vehicle. With the pin aligned, he confidently continued back until hitting the pin, which was blocked by the hitch brackets that he had mistakenly left closed. Instead of a connection, he pushed the trailer back off its blocks, causing the rig to lurch down, crashing its heavy metal pin through the bed of the pickup truck. John heard the crash and cursed, threw the vehicle into park before inspecting the damage.
"Well, that just sucks! How the heck did...?"
He peered into the hitch's receiver casement and cursed again.
"You idiot! Well John, you'll never make that mistake again." He told himself.
He pulled open the hitch bracket bar, double checked that it was opened, and then set his attention to the pin jutting through the bed of his new truck. The trailer's landing gear seemed undamaged, and to his joy, they extended down and pushed the pin up and out of the hole.
"Well, let's hope that's the only vacation glitch I run into..."
**
John drove his rig to the highway and headed out into the country. Without knowing the best path, he set his GPS and followed it religiously onto a parkway. Happily, he sang with the radio, failing to hear a man who pulled up next to him while shouting, "LOW BRIDGE."
Angered by ruining his moment with the song, he turned off the music and shouted back. "WHAT?"
"LOW BRIDGE AHEAD!"
John's eyes grew wide at the sight of the approaching bridge. It was arched and certainly not as tall as the camper he was pulling. Quickly, he slammed on his breaks and stopped with his hood just under the bridge. The man pulled up and blocked the other lane.
John got out a put his hand over his mouth. If he had gone through, it would have torn off the roof of his camper.
The man got out and asked, "You okay?"
"Yeah, thanks to you."
"Well, before more traffic comes through, let's back you up to that turn around over there."
"Again, thank you."
**
John made it to the first campground, and cracked a beer to relieve the stress of the day's journey. With a fire lit, he reclined back, took another swig, and vowed to follow only main highways, without regard of that cursed GPS.
**
After a couple weeks, John was halfway across country, enjoying the flat, straight roads of the plains. He had rested well, and decided to drive late into the night to reach the next park. There were no moons, and the light of the stars were strong enough for him to see through his windshield. "Look at that. Gotta take out the telescope..." The sky suddenly became instant daylight, and before John could close his eyes to the light, an explosion pushed the rig sideways. He struggled to regain control and stopped on the roadside. There was a glow off in the field, and it illuminated a path back. John followed it to see a large perfect circle burned clean through his camper.
"NO!!!!" He cried in anger.
From behind, there was a sound, and he followed it back to the rock that destroyed his camper. But it wasn't rock, but a metal sphere that popped open in rounded pentagons with odd structures within. Within the center, little creatures emerged and in his angered state, John stomped on the creatures like ants and then picked up a rock to smash the rest of the small structures.
He brushed off his hands, and returned to review the damage to his camper. From behind and up close, the smashed little people and structures displayed a flag with the insignia, NASA.
ReturnThere used to be horses.
Anna stirred the embers of her campfire, more for light than heat. She glanced down at the book on her lap and traced the image of the extinct animal with her finger, warming to the idea that, if successful, she might just be the agent of its return. Horses had died out before her birth, so the wonder of them had rooted deep in her heart for years.
She closed the book, which documented the great mammalian extinction, and which had been passed down for generations until it had reached her hands, illicitly. Librarians preserve; she wanted to discover. To do so meant having committed the greatest of sins: stealing this book.
It had been her favorite ever since she had entered Library Service. It had been her obsession when she had discovered, quite by accident, the code hidden between the lines of text that had spoken of a woodland preserve where extinct animals still lived.
She returned the book to her backpack, then used dirt to extinguish the struggling embers. Anna rose and stretched. Her dark eyes studied the barely discernible path through the dense forest. The book had also warned of carnivorous vines. One wrap of a tendril, one twist, and you were poisoned to death before being drawn into and ingested in the fibrous womansized pitcher.
Weak dawn light filtered through the trees and clouds. She sought a rock shaped like a man. Anna shivered. The ancient virus had destroyed the male sex centuries back; none had been seen since then, although rumors of sightings usually surfaced in the dark winter months when tales of terror flourished. She hoped no man hid in this wood, but thought not, for the coded message spoke only of The Woman who had sought, and had found, a way to save some of the animals from the second viral catastrophe. Anna sought Her cave and Her science. She sought Her Womb.
Roots made hiking difficult, but the path held true, and just before the sun reached its zenith, she spied the rock in a clearing. Anna circled the seated figure, whose chin rested on one hand, while the other hand grasped his knee. Muscular, naked and thoughtfully annoyed. Very disconcerting. Was he contemplating his own extinction, or how he had he managed to lose out to women in survival?
Something rustled. The serpentine swishing of a snake? Before another thought could form in her brain, a spiny vine hissed and whistled toward Anna. She wielded her machete. One part thumped and twitched on the ground, oozing green liquid, while the remainder retreated back into the underbrush. The leaves above flapped, raising the alarm.
A flash of sunlight caught Anna’s eye. In the distance was blackness. She raced toward the cave’s maw as the vengeful vines darted towards her. She propelled herself down a carved staircase, not caring if she could see the bottom.
She missed the last step and rolled across tile. Machete ready, she cocked her ear. The vines had not followed. She pulled a torch from her backpack. Fluid bubbled in the distance. She followed the sound and the narrow path laid before her.
At its end, a vast chamber opened. Row after row of glowing ovoid glass containers occupied the space. A golden horse floated in liquid. Its nostrils flared with each watery breath.
Anna placed her hand reverently on the container. She had reached her goal, but all was not as she had imagined. “You live, but are not free. How do I free you?”
“Life gives Life,” whispered The Woman who suddenly materialized before her.
Anna fell back. That The Woman was ordinary, not mythic, in appearance surprised her the most. “How?” she gasped, when she regained her composure.
The Woman repeated, “Life gives Life.”
“A hologram?” Anna asked herself.
“Life gives Life,” The Woman intoned yet again, but this time more urgently.
Was there a limit to the message? Anna wondered. The coded book had given no clues about the animals, other than hinting that they had survived. There had been no instruction sheet for revival.
The Woman began to fade.
“Wait!” Anna cried, afraid of losing her chance to restore the animals. She took out her pocket knife and cut her palms. Blood was Life. Women were the Portal. She reached for the hologram.
The Woman became solid under her palms. She smiled, pleased, despite her stained overalls. “Come, daughter,” we have much work to do.
Wordperfect count 748
Highway Through the Stars © 2020 Kalifer DeilIt took twenty-five years and trillions of credits to build a vehicle capable of riding the circuit of wormholes powered by adjacent black holes. We have a map of those close by, given to us by the Rillis. No clue as to who originally created them. The Rillis, like us, are relatively new to the game of interstellar travel. Unlike us, they are very lizard-like, They said we would have been also if it wasn't for the Chicxulub impactor impelled by the Xorbis eons ago. We were told that event started a galaxy-wide war that has lasted to the present.
They shared with us our origin story. We were born worshiping the Xorbis, our pantheon of gods. There were many Adams and many Eves created by them, most of whom died off. All multiplied, but only one strain of progeny fully succeeded. Yet, many of those strains left genetic marks on all of us. As time went on, different Xorbis controllers and different policies guided our development. What surprised me, was the Xorbis were helping the Nazies and fomented World War Two. The Rillis warned that the Xorbis are coming back to create an Earth dictatorship and make us a military ally.
It was imperative for us to become independent in the galaxy without the Xorbis. We've worked hard to break down barriers between peoples and felt we could do the same at the galactic level. The HTTS (Highway Through The Stars), a series of wormholes, was going to be our avenue for goodwill. Captain Peggy Archer greeted me at Elon Musk Spaceport and we were surrounded by a sea of reporters and cameras. “I'm glad to see you Ambassador Graham.” her voice sang out over the din of reporter questions that chattered like crowd noise on New Years Eve.
“I'm thrilled to be a part of this epic journey,” I replied loudly.
“Well, welcome aboard!”She tried to answer some of the common reporter questions as we headed towards the lifter. We were isolated from the crowd then we shot up to the Interstellar ship Galileo. Here we met the crew and we immediately went to work going through the checklist. Captain Archer finally commanded, “Galileo proceed!”
##
We arrived at the first gate and hesitated to make sure it hadn't collapsed into a black hole. We entered perfectly in the center point and were on the other side with a loud wrenching metallic sound. Betelgeuse appeared in the distance, much brighter and redder than it appeared on Earth. To our right, there was a small red dwarf star with a planet two-thirds the size of the Earth. A small armada greeted us. The Rillis set up the meeting but we had no idea that we would be surrounded by a sea of ships. The Rillis also didn't tell us they were insectoids, or to them, we were apes. We met in a virtual conference hall. The first reaction was visceral fright on both our parts but it quickly turned into laughter.
The Queen greeted the Captain, “You are Archer, Yes?”
“Yes, and this is Jack Graham, Earth's Ambassador to the Galaxy.”
I felt, on the spot, unprepared, so I winged it. “Are you the leader of your, ah, individuals?”
“No, I am their Queen. I think for my children.”
“If that's the case, who are the others at the conference table.”
“No one has a name, military, territory, engineering leaders. We have mastered genetic engineering to make it so.”
I boasted, “Our goal was to create an environment where everyone in the galaxy is equal under the law and have an equal shot at anything they want to do in life.” The response I got was an insectoid guffaw with strange looks and clicking sounds.
“My naïve earthling, you must have individuals who are born to do certain jobs. You can't pick one of yours at random and make him a physicist.”
“We give them an opportunity to try?”
“Such a waste when they could be doing something useful like waste-collection. Why don't you just engineer them to do the jobs you need to have done. I'm engineered to think beyond all the others. I think it's time for you to move on. Just to let you know, apes are my favorite food.” Her five eyes narrowed on me causing chills and partial paralysis.
We quickly terminated the conference and moved on.
Ward 6 by Carrie Zylka515 Words
Max waited patiently; he was the last one in Ward 6. All the others had either been served their death sentence or recruited into the SumX Program. They’d approached him, but he wasn’t keen on using his unique talents for the government. Despite them promising to wipe his extensive criminal record clean. They had said his rage combined with his unique strength ability could be channeled…cultivated.
He would rather sit and rot.
He listened intently; even though he’d somehow managed to loosen it, the neuro-disruptor headband seemed exceptionally tight this morning. Today was “adjustment day”. He strained his ears, listening for the clack! clack! sound of the nurses’ shoes on the cold linoleum.
His heart jumped when his favorite sound finally echoed down the corridor, slamming against his ears like a cawing crow sitting on his shoulder.
The nurse opened the door, keys clanging against the metal lock. He was a large man; his white uniform straining a bit against his broad chest. He stepped into the room and turned his body to close the door.
Max wasted no time, he launched forward, simultaneously ripping the headband from his head. He covered the distance between his bed and the nurse’s body in the blink of an eye.
The nurse tried to turn and throw an arm up, but Max was quicker. His open palms smashed against the side of the nurse’s head.
Snarling, Max squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating. He felt the telltale surge of energy in his arms, the strength intensifying, the surge of adrenaline that came when he called. He opened his eyes when he heard the squish of the man’s head.
He stepped back. He felt no remorse, no sympathy, only the high that came when he used his accelerated strength to hurt someone.
Then the crash came. He didn’t know how it worked, this gift he’d been granted, he’d tried to learn how to wield it, so it didn’t knock him out so much afterward. He staggered against the wall, gulping in deep breaths, trying to keep unconsciousness at bay.
Finally, he felt steadier, collected.
Quickly stripping the nurse of his clothing and dressing himself, he stepped out into the corridor. Clipboard and pen in hand he walked confidently past the attendant’s desk who barely glanced up from his phone.
He swiped the nurse’s security card to the side emergency exit. A few weeks ago he’d overheard one of the guards say they’d used it in the past to slip out for a quick smoke because the alarm to that particular door didn’t work, and no one checked the badge swipes anyway.
Max pulled out the car keys the nurse had carried with him. He pressed the lock button and listened for the telltale beep.
After he’d located the car and slid behind the wheel he paused. He’d had no other plan than to escape. He had no idea where to go from here.
Max restlessly poked the pointy end of the pen into his finger, for the first time in over a decade, the open road beckoned before him.
All Roads Lead to EarthJose Alverez was cleaning inside tank #7, when the explosion occurred. On the other side of the facility’s campus, a small spark started rapid polymerization of three decades of accumulated waste material. Tank #1, contained the material briefly, as the pressure and temperature soared and then failed with the force of small atomic bomb.
Grief gripped the small town. Husbands, sons, wives and daughters that left for work that morning would never be coming home. Jose was only survivor among the workers on site.
After first, his survival was considered a miracle. But, as time went on, the town’s grief shifted to rage and, somehow, Jose’s survival was an affront to all who died. His first thought was to protect his family but then he remembered they were in the main complex when the tank blew.
He headed out of town. No destination, no plan other than to be somewhere else. He saw an ad on a billboard in the maglev depot. “Healthy, Intelligent workers needed to create highways to the stars.”
--
He passed the physical easily and the engineering test wasn’t much harder. The last step was the psych briefing.
“The journey out will take about ten years, but you’ll be in suspended animation for most of the trip. Once you assemble your Gateway, you’ll be able to return to Earth in a matter of seconds. But you won’t be able to come “home”.
Because you’ll be travelling at relativistic speeds, more than two hundred years will pass here on Earth. Everyone you know will be dead. Everything you know will be obsolete. You’ll have to find your place in a society that does not yet exist.”
Jose simply stated that his family was already dead, he was an engineer and could understand science applications, no matter what the science, once he learned it.
--
“What a ride!” thought Jose. The first leg was via the Elevator, packed with other highway engineers. Its segmented length was tipped with a pointed, aerodynamic pilot’s module, needed for the fast ascent. From orbit to Mars was via a boxy freighter. From Mars, he would be the only occupant of his ship for the rest of the journey.
That ship, almost a kilometer long, was designated JGD-43, putting him near the middle of the 100-ship launch sequence.
The Mars launch facility hurled him towards the Sun. All the sounds of travelling faded after the loud buzz of the rail gun. He now travelled in silence even as he sling-shot around the Sun and headed out of the solar system.
Once he cleared Jupiter, he went into cryrosleep for the rest of the journey.
--
The bulk of his ship seemed to disintegrate when he reached optimal orbit around his star. He was not alarmed – that segment was unfolding into a massive, self-replicating solar array. Besides generating power, it worked as enormous parasol, keeping his ship and the gateway from being incinerated by the nearby star. It took several months to grow enough to deliver the 1.8 terawatts needed to power the gateway. He successfully transported the test artifact from one side of the gateway to the other. But attempts to link his gateway to Earth failed. Every communication attempt was met with…silence.
--
The gateways were designed as a hub and spoke system with Earth as the hub. Without a hub, they would not work. With nothing but time on his hand, he reconfigured his ship and gateway to act as a hub and sent out data packets. Several gateways responded almost immediately. Using a series of network hops, he was able to contact almost 60 of his fellow engineers.
They, too attempted to contact Earth and failed.
Together, they modified the system and discovered hundreds then thousands of other gateways. Turns out humans were not the only ones with this idea or technology. Trading and tourism on a scale beyond anything the humans imagined.
Still, Earth was not responding.
--
Jose asked “Does anyone find it strange that no one seems to know about Earth?” Jose bartered his repair skills for several hops back to his old solar system. From there, he hired a freighter to take him back to Earth. From above, it was as green and blue as he remembered. As they orbited, nightfall revealed utter blackness on the dark side.
It took an archeological expedition to reveal their fate. “Global warming, it turns out, was real.”
Mod
First round votes:
Tom Olbert => ****Marianne, Justin
Justin Sewall => Greg, Marianne, Carrie
Jot Russell => ****Marianne
Marianne Petrino => **Tom, Jot, Greg
Kalifer Deil => **Tom, Jot, Carrie
Carrie Zylka => ****Marianne, Jot, Kaliver, Greg, Tom
Greg Krumrey => Justin
Paula Friedman => ****Marianne
Winner:
Return by Marianne Petrino
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, and reading each story before 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 you 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.
Jot Russell
Contest Creator/Director
October Theme: The road. Oh how we must all miss it by now! It need not be just dirt or macadam or asphalt, but any thoroughfare that beckons, even the highways in the sky. As Tolkein said, it is that which "goes ever on."
Required Elements: something pointy; a sound.