Thursday, February 27, 2014


By H. G. Wells

It was on the first day of the new year that the announcement was made, almost simultaneously from three observatories, that the motion of the planet Neptune, the outermost of all the planets that wheel about the sun, had become very erratic. Ogilvy had already called attention to a suspected retardation in its velocity in December. Such a piece of news was scarcely calculated to interest a world the greater portion of whose inhabitants were unaware of the existence of the planet Neptune, nor outside the astronomical profession did the subsequent discovery of a faint remote speck of light in the region of the perturbed planet cause any very great excitement. Scientific people, however, found the intelligence remarkable enough, even before it became known that the new body was rapidly growing larger and brighter, that its motion was quite different from the orderly progress of the planets, and that the deflection of Neptune and its satellite was becoming now of an unprecedented kind.

Few people without a training in science can realise the huge isolation of the solar system. The sun with its specks of planets, its dust of planetoids, and its impalpable comets, swims in a vacant immensity that almost defeats the imagination. Beyond the orbit of Neptune there is space, vacant so far as human observation has penetrated, without warmth or light or sound, blank emptiness, for twenty million times a million miles. That is the smallest estimate of the distance to be traversed before the very nearest of the stars is attained. And, saving a few comets more unsubstantial than the thinnest flame, no matter had ever to human knowledge crossed this gulf of space, until early in the twentieth century this strange wanderer appeared. A vast mass of matter it was, bulky, heavy, rushing without warning out of the black mystery of the sky into the radiance of the sun. By the second day it was clearly visible to any decent instrument, as a speck with a barely sensible diameter, in the constellation Leo near Regulus. In a little while an opera glass could attain it.

On the third day of the new year the newspaper readers of two hemispheres were made aware for the first time of the real importance of this unusual apparition in the heavens. "A Planetary Collision," one London paper headed the news, and proclaimed Duchaine's opinion that this strange new planet would probably collide with Neptune. The leader writers enlarged upon the topic. So that in most of the capitals of the world, on January 3rd, there was an expectation, however vague of some imminent phenomenon in the sky; and as the night followed the sunset round the globe, thousands of men turned their eyes skyward to see--the old familiar stars just as they had always been.

Until it was dawn in London and Pollux setting and the stars overhead grown pale. The Winter's dawn it was, a sickly filtering accumulation of daylight, and the light of gas and candles shone yellow in the windows to show where people were astir. But the yawning policeman saw the thing, the busy crowds in the markets stopped agape, workmen going to their work betimes, milkmen, the drivers of news-carts, dissipation going home jaded and pale, homeless wanderers, sentinels on their beats, and in the country, labourers trudging afield, poachers slinking home, all over the dusky quickening country it could be seen--and out at sea by seamen watching for the day--a great white star, come suddenly into the westward sky!

Brighter it was than any star in our skies; brighter than the evening star at its brightest. It still glowed out white and large, no mere twinkling spot of light, but a small round clear shining disc, an hour after the day had come. And where science has not reached, men stared and feared, telling one another of the wars and pestilences that are foreshadowed by these fiery signs in the Heavens. Sturdy Boers, dusky Hottentots, Gold Coast negroes, Frenchmen, Spaniards, Portuguese, stood in the warmth of the sunrise watching the setting of this strange new star.

And in a hundred observatories there had been suppressed excitement, rising almost to shouting pitch, as the two remote bodies had rushed together, and a hurrying to and fro, to gather photographic apparatus and spectroscope, and this appliance and that, to record this novel astonishing sight, the destruction of a world. For it was a world, a sister planet of our earth, far greater than our earth indeed, that had so suddenly flashed into flaming death. Neptune it was, had been struck, fairly and squarely, by the strange planet from outer space and the heat of the concussion had incontinently turned two solid globes into one vast mass of incandescence. Round the world that day, two hours before
the dawn, went the pallid great white star, fading only as it sank westward and the sun mounted above it. Everywhere men marvelled at it, but of all those who saw it none could have marvelled more than those sailors, habitual watchers of the stars, who far away at sea had heard nothing of its advent and saw it now rise like a pigmy moon and climb zenithward and hang overhead and sink westward with the passing of the night.

And when next it rose over Europe everywhere were crowds of watchers on hilly slopes, on house-roofs, in open spaces, staring eastward for the rising of the great new star. It rose with a white glow in front of it, like the glare of a white fire, and those who had seen it come into existence the night before cried out at the sight of it. "It is larger," they cried. "It is brighter!" And, indeed the moon a quarter full and sinking in the west was in its apparent size beyond comparison, but scarcely in all its breadth had it as much brightness now as the little circle of the strange new star.

"It is brighter!" cried the people clustering in the streets. But in the dim observatories the watchers held their breath and peered at one another. "It is nearer," they said. "Nearer!"

And voice after voice repeated, "It is nearer," and the clicking telegraph took that up, and it trembled along telephone wires, and in a thousand cities grimy compositors fingered the type. "It is nearer." Men writing in offices, struck with a strange realisation, flung down their pens, men talking in a thousand places suddenly came upon a grotesque possibility in those words, "It is nearer." It hurried along awakening streets, it was shouted down the frost-stilled ways of quiet villages, men who had read these things from the throbbing tape stood in yellow-lit doorways shouting the news to the passers-by. "It is nearer." Pretty women, flushed and glittering, heard the news told jestingly between the dances, and feigned an intelligent interest they did not feel. "Nearer! Indeed. How curious! How very, very clever people must be to find out things like that!"

Lonely tramps faring through the wintry night murmured those words to comfort themselves--looking skyward. "It has need to be nearer, for the night's as cold as charity. Don't seem much warmth from it if it is nearer, all the same."

"What is a new star to me?" cried the weeping woman kneeling beside her dead.

The schoolboy, rising early for his examination work, puzzled it out for himself--with the great white star, shining broad and bright through the frost-flowers of his window. "Centrifugal, centripetal," he said, with his chin on his fist. "Stop a planet in its flight, rob it of its centrifugal force, what then? Centripetal has it, and down it falls into the sun! And this--!"

"Do we come in the way? I wonder--"

The light of that day went the way of its brethren, and with the later watches of the frosty darkness rose the strange star again. And it was now so bright that the waxing moon seemed but a pale yellow ghost of itself, hanging huge in the sunset. In a South African city a great man had married, and the streets were alight to welcome his return with his bride. "Even the skies have illuminated," said the flatterer. Under Capricorn, two negro lovers, daring the wild beasts and evil spirits, for love of one another, crouched together in a cane brake where the fire-flies hovered. "That is our star," they whispered, and felt strangely comforted by the sweet brilliance of its light.

The master mathematician sat in his private room and pushed the papers from him. His calculations were already finished. In a small white phial there still remained a little of the drug that had kept him awake and active for four long nights. Each day, serene, explicit, patient as ever, he had given his lecture to his students, and then had come back at once to this momentous calculation. His face was grave, a little drawn and hectic from his drugged activity. For some time he seemed lost in thought. Then he went to the window, and the blind went up with a click. Half way up the sky, over the clustering roofs, chimneys and steeples of the city, hung the star.

He looked at it as one might look into the eyes of a brave enemy. "You may kill me," he said after a silence. "But I can hold you--and all the universe for that matter--in the grip of this little brain. I would not change. Even now."

He looked at the little phial. "There will be no need of sleep again," he said. The next day at noon, punctual to the minute, he entered his lecture theatre, put his hat on the end of the table as his habit was, and carefully selected a large piece of chalk. It was a joke among his students that he could not lecture without that piece of chalk to fumble in his fingers, and once he had been stricken to impotence by their hiding his supply. He came and looked under his grey eyebrows at the rising tiers of young fresh faces, and spoke with his accustomed studied commonness of phrasing. "Circumstances have arisen--circumstances beyond my control," he said and paused, "which will debar me from completing the course I had designed. It would seem, gentlemen, if I may put the thing clearly and briefly, that--Man has lived in vain."

The students glanced at one another. Had they heard aright? Mad? Raised eyebrows and grinning lips there were, but one or two faces remained intent upon his calm grey-fringed face. "It will be interesting," he was saying, "to devote this morning to an exposition, so far as I can make it clear to you, of the calculations that have led me to this conclusion. Let us assume--"

He turned towards the blackboard, meditating a diagram in the way that was usual to him. "What was that about 'lived in vain?'" whispered one student to another. "Listen," said the other, nodding towards the lecturer.

And presently they began to understand.

That night the star rose later, for its proper eastward motion had carried it some way across Leo towards Virgo, and its brightness was so great that the sky became a luminous blue as it rose, and every star was hidden in its turn, save only Jupiter near the zenith, Capella, Aldebaran, Sirius and the pointers of the Bear. It was very white and beautiful. In many parts of the world that night a pallid halo encircled it about. It was perceptibly larger; in the clear refractive sky of the tropics it seemed as if it were nearly a quarter the size of the moon. The frost was still on the ground in England, but the world was as brightly lit as if it were midsummer moonlight. One could see to read quite ordinary print by that cold clear light, and in the cities the lamps burnt yellow and wan.

And everywhere the world was awake that night, and throughout Christendom a sombre murmur hung in the keen air over the countryside like the belling of bees in the heather, and this murmurous tumult grew to a clangour in the cities. It was the tolling of the bells in a million belfry towers and steeples, summoning the people to sleep no more, to sin no more, but to gather in their churches and pray. And overhead, growing larger and brighter, as the earth rolled on its way and the night passed, rose the dazzling star.

And the streets and houses were alight in all the cities, the shipyards glared, and whatever roads led to high country were lit and crowded all night long. And in all the seas about the civilised lands, ships with throbbing engines, and ships with bellying sails, crowded with men and living creatures, were standing out to ocean and the north. For already
the warning of the master mathematician had been telegraphed all over the world, and translated into a hundred tongues. The new planet and Neptune, locked in a fiery embrace, were whirling headlong, ever faster and faster towards the sun. Already every second this blazing mass flew a hundred miles, and every second its terrific velocity increased. As it
flew now, indeed, it must pass a hundred million of miles wide of the earth and scarcely affect it. But near its destined path, as yet only slightly perturbed, spun the mighty planet Jupiter and his moons sweeping splendid round the sun. Every moment now the attraction between the fiery star and the greatest of the planets grew stronger. And the result of that attraction? Inevitably Jupiter would be deflected from its orbit into an elliptical path, and the burning star, swung by his attraction wide of its sunward rush, would "describe a curved path" and perhaps collide with, and certainly pass very close to, our earth. "Earthquakes, volcanic outbreaks, cyclones, sea waves, floods, and a
steady rise in temperature to I know not what limit"--so prophesied the master mathematician.

And overhead, to carry out his words, lonely and cold and livid, blazed the star of the coming doom.

To many who stared at it that night until their eyes ached, it seemed that it was visibly approaching. And that night, too, the weather changed, and the frost that had gripped all Central Europe and France and England softened towards a thaw.

But you must not imagine because I have spoken of people praying through the night and people going aboard ships and people fleeing towards mountainous country that the whole world was already in a terror because of the star. As a matter of fact, use and wont still ruled the world, and save for the talk of idle moments and the splendour of the night, nine human beings out of ten were still busy at their common occupations. In all the cities the shops, save one here and there, opened and closed at their proper hours, the doctor and the undertaker plied their trades, the workers gathered in the factories, soldiers drilled, scholars studied, lovers sought one another, thieves lurked and fled, politicians planned their schemes. The presses of the newspapers roared through the nights, and many a priest of this church and that would not open his holy building to further what he considered a foolish panic. The newspapers insisted on the lesson of the year 1000--for then, too, people had anticipated the end. The star was no star--mere gas--a comet; and were it a star it could not possibly strike the earth. There was no precedent for such a thing. Common sense was sturdy everywhere, scornful, jesting, a little inclined to persecute the obdurate fearful. That night, at seven-fifteen by Greenwich time, the star would be at its nearest to Jupiter. Then the world would see the turn things would take. The master mathematician's grim warnings were treated by many as so much mere elaborate self-advertisement. Common sense at last, a little heated by argument, signified its unalterable convictions by going to bed. So, too, barbarism and savagery, already tired of the novelty, went about their nightly business, and save for a howling dog here and there, the beast world left the star unheeded.

And yet, when at last the watchers in the European States saw the star rise, an hour later it is true, but no larger than it had been the night before, there were still plenty awake to laugh at the master mathematician--to take the danger as if it had passed.

But hereafter the laughter ceased. The star grew--it grew with a terrible steadiness hour after hour, a little larger each hour, a little nearer the midnight zenith, and brighter and brighter, until it had turned night into a second day. Had it come straight to the earth instead of in a curved path, had it lost no velocity to Jupiter, it must have leapt the intervening gulf in a day, but as it was it took five days altogether to come by our planet. The next night it had become a third the size of the moon before it set to English eyes, and the thaw was assured. It rose over America near the size of the moon, but blinding white to look at, and hot; and a breath of hot wind blew now with its rising and gathering strength, and in Virginia, and Brazil, and down the St. Lawrence valley, it shone intermittently through a driving reek of thunder-clouds, flickering violet lightning, and hail unprecedented. In Manitoba was a thaw and devastating floods. And upon all the mountains of the earth the snow and ice began to melt that night, and all the rivers coming out of high country flowed thick and turbid, and soon--in their upper reaches--with swirling trees and the bodies of beasts and men. They rose steadily, steadily in the ghostly brilliance, and came trickling over their banks at last, behind the flying population of their valleys.

And along the coast of Argentina and up the South Atlantic the tides were higher than had ever been in the memory of man, and the storms drove the waters in many cases scores of miles inland, drowning whole cities. And so great grew the heat during the night that the rising of the sun was like the coming of a shadow. The earthquakes began and grew until all down America from the Arctic Circle to Cape Horn, hillsides were sliding, fissures were opening, and houses and walls crumbling to destruction. The whole side of Cotopaxi slipped out in one vast convulsion, and a tumult of lava poured out so high and broad and swift and liquid that in one day it reached the sea.

So the star, with the wan moon in its wake, marched across the Pacific, trailed the thunderstorms like the hem of a robe, and the growing tidal wave that toiled behind it, frothing and eager, poured over island and island and swept them clear of men. Until that wave came at last--in a blinding light and with the breath of a furnace, swift and terrible it came--a wall of water, fifty feet high, roaring hungrily, upon the long coasts of Asia, and swept inland across the plains of China. For a space the star, hotter now and larger and brighter than the sun in its strength, showed with pitiless brilliance the wide and populous country; towns and villages with their pagodas and trees, roads, wide cultivated fields, millions of sleepless people staring in helpless terror at the incandescent sky; and then, low and growing, came the murmur of the flood. And thus it was with millions of men that night--a flight nowhither, with limbs heavy with heat and breath fierce and scant, and the flood like a wall swift and white behind. And then death.

China was lit glowing white, but over Japan and Java and all the islands of Eastern Asia the great star was a ball of dull red fire because of the steam and smoke and ashes the volcanoes were spouting forth to salute its coming. Above was the lava, hot gases and ash, and below the seething floods, and the whole earth swayed and rumbled with the earthquake shocks. Soon the immemorial snows of Thibet and the Himalaya were melting and pouring down by ten million deepening converging channels upon the plains of Burmah and Hindostan. The tangled summits of the Indian jungles were aflame in a thousand places, and below the hurrying waters around the stems were dark objects that still struggled feebly and reflected the blood-red tongues of fire. And in a rudderless confusion a multitude of men and women fled down the broad river-ways to that one last hope of men--the open sea.

Larger grew the star, and larger, hotter, and brighter with a terrible swiftness now. The tropical ocean had lost its phosphorescence, and the whirling steam rose in ghostly wreaths from the black waves that plunged incessantly, speckled with storm-tossed ships.

And then came a wonder. It seemed to those who in Europe watched for the rising of the star that the world must have ceased its rotation. In a thousand open spaces of down and upland the people who had fled thither from the floods and the falling houses and sliding slopes of hill watched for that rising in vain. Hour followed hour through a terrible suspense, and the star rose not. Once again men set their eyes upon the old constellations they had counted lost to them forever. In England it was hot and clear overhead, though the ground quivered perpetually, but in the tropics, Sirius and Capella and Aldebaran showed through a veil of steam. And when at last the great star rose near ten hours late, the sun rose close upon it, and in the centre of its white heart was a disc of black.

Over Asia it was the star had begun to fall behind the movement of the sky, and then suddenly, as it hung over India, its light had been veiled. All the plain of India from the mouth of the Indus to the mouths of the Ganges was a shallow waste of shining water that night, out of which rose temples and palaces, mounds and hills, black with people. Every minaret was a clustering mass of people, who fell one by one into the turbid waters, as heat and terror overcame them. The whole land seemed a-wailing, and suddenly there swept a shadow across that furnace of despair, and a breath of cold wind, and a gathering of clouds, out of the cooling air. Men looking up, near blinded, at the star, saw that a black disc was creeping across the light. It was the moon, coming between the star and the earth. And even as men cried to God at this respite, out of the East with a strange inexplicable swiftness sprang the sun. And then star, sun and moon rushed together across the heavens.

So it was that presently, to the European watchers, star and sun rose close upon each other, drove headlong for a space and then slower, and at last came to rest, star and sun merged into one glare of flame at the zenith of the sky. The moon no longer eclipsed the star but was lost to sight in the brilliance of the sky. And though those who were still alive regarded it for the most part with that dull stupidity that hunger, fatigue, heat and despair engender, there were still men who could perceive the meaning of these signs. Star and earth had been at their nearest, had swung about one another, and the star had passed. Already it was receding, swifter and swifter, in the last stage of its headlong journey downward into the sun.

And then the clouds gathered, blotting out the vision of the sky, the thunder and lightning wove a garment round the world; all over the earth was such a downpour of rain as men had never before seen, and where the volcanoes flared red against the cloud canopy there descended torrents of mud. Everywhere the waters were pouring off the land, leaving mud-silted ruins, and the earth littered like a storm-worn beach with all that had floated, and the dead bodies of the men and brutes, its children. For days the water streamed off the land, sweeping away soil and trees and houses in the way, and piling huge dykes and scooping out Titanic gullies over the country side. Those were the days of darkness that followed the star and the heat. All through them, and for many weeks and months, the earthquakes continued.

But the star had passed, and men, hunger-driven and gathering courage only slowly, might creep back to their ruined cities, buried granaries, and sodden fields. Such few ships as had escaped the storms of that time came stunned and shattered and sounding their way cautiously through the new marks and shoals of once familiar ports. And as the storms subsided men perceived that everywhere the days were hotter than of yore, and the sun larger, and the moon, shrunk to a third of its former size, took now fourscore days between its new and new.

But of the new brotherhood that grew presently among men, of the saving of laws and books and machines, of the strange change that had come over Iceland and Greenland and the shores of Baffin's Bay, so that the sailors coming there presently found them green and gracious, and could scarce believe their eyes, this story does not tell. Nor of the movement of mankind now that the earth was hotter, northward and southward towards the poles of the earth. It concerns itself only with the coming and the passing of the Star.

The Martian astronomers--for there are astronomers on Mars, although they are very different beings from men--were naturally profoundly interested by these things. They saw them from their own standpoint of course. "Considering the mass and temperature of the missile that was flung through our solar system into the sun," one wrote, "it is astonishing what a little damage the earth, which it missed so narrowly, has sustained. All the familiar continental markings and the masses of the seas remain intact, and indeed the only difference seems to be a shrinkage of the white discolouration (supposed to be frozen water) round either pole." Which only shows how small the vastest of human catastrophes may seem, at a distance of a few million miles.

- - -
Herbert George Wells, better known as H. G. Wells, was an English writer best known for such science fiction novels as The Time Machine, The War of the Worlds, The Invisible Man and The Island of Doctor Moreau. He was a prolific writer of both fiction and non-fiction, and produced works in many different genres, including contemporary novels, history, and social commentary.

Thursday, February 20, 2014


By Eric White

The outraged scientist and his research team barged onto the bridge. I had to be firm with him, but I had to prevent the situation from escalating. His researchers watched as he marched directly up to me.
“Look Captain, I didn’t complain when we were forced to cease research, to park this vessel. I understood we were just following protocol,” he said. “And I didn’t complain at the fact that we’ve been sitting here for the last nine days. Like you said, it’s just protocol. But now you’re telling me that we have to abort the mission indefinitely?”
“I know that this wasn’t the intended outcome, but-“
“You’re damn right this wasn’t the intended outcome. Do you know how much time and effort has been put into this project? We have only explored sixty-five percent of the oceans, but now we’re just supposed to leave with our research incomplete? This is unacceptable.” He poked his long skinny finger into my chest as if to frighten me.
“That’s not the case. Protocol simply states that-“
“I don’t give a damn about your protocol!” he said. “You owe us an explanation, as to why you’re cutting this expedition short. We’ve been sitting here for nine days. We demand answers.”
The other researchers nodded and agreed in approval.
“This is not the proper way to discuss your concerns,” I said. “If you will follow me, we can discuss the situation further. Everyone else needs to return to their quarters. If you would just cooperate we can explain further.”
“What? I’m not going anywhere with you. You think you can just shut us up? Not today. I’m done taking orders from you and your under-evolved crew! Our research is paramount to the council’s final decision. You’re just glorified bodyguards. We’re not going anywhere! We’re not abandoning this mission!”
The angry mob of researchers moved forward, but my guards already had their blasters drawn. The sudden appearance of a lethal threat halted the researchers in their tracks.
“I’m done with this. You will follow me, or you will die where you stand. Anyone else who does not immediately return to his or her quarters will be dealt with accordingly,” I said.
I didn’t wait for an answer. I started down a corridor, leaving my guards to deal with the crowd. I heard the scientist’s scuttling footfalls behind me. The conference room doors glided open as I approached. I stood in the doorway and ushered him in before me.
“Have a seat.”
“No, it’s okay. I rather stand,” he replied skeptically.
“It wasn’t a question.”
Once full of threats and demands, the scientist shifted uncomfortably in his seat like a scolded child.
“I will give you your answers,” I said while standing behind him. “Even though there’s not a damn thing about what we’re doing down here that’s of any importance at all.”
“That’s not true! If we-“
I slammed his head into the table.
“And that is the very last time you will interrupt a ranking officer of the Alliance.”
“You can’t do this!” he squealed. “ I am a sanctioned scientist. You have no right to-“
I slammed his head into the table harder that time.
“I can do whatever I want. You organized an attack against Alliance military personnel while on a mission. As of right now, you’re guilty of treason,” I said as I moved to the front of the table to look him in his beady eyes.
“Nine days ago, a boat on the surface began blasting this area with sonar. We were ordered to dock on the ocean floor, and cloak ourselves to avoid detection, but this morning there was a power surge and our cloaking shield was disabled for a few moments. During that time, our research vessel was located by a sonar scan. It is protocol to cease all mission objectives until the area can be confirmed safe for further research. As you know, our existence must remain unknown.”
The scientist was wide-eyed with fear. Once boisterous and demanding, the scientist now cringed as he shrank into his chair. The trail of purple blood running down his temple almost brought a smile to my face.
“Did you know that there are thirty other research teams just like yours on this planet right now? Each team thinks it is more important than the last, and I escort every damn one of them on hundreds of mission just like this one every year. But let me let you in on a little secret,” I said.
“None of you matter. The only reason you are here is because it’s Alliance protocol. We have to explore every resource on the planet, but the truth is there’s only one research team of any real importance, and that’s the one observing the human species. Their findings will decide whether or not Earth becomes part of the Planetary Alliance. Not you and not your research. The decision doesn’t rest on Earth’s resources. The decision rests on its people. If you believe otherwise, you are truly delusional.“
The scientist sat dumbfounded and silent.
“Protocol dictates that we leave the planet tonight. Once out of the planet’s atmosphere we will dock with an Alliance cruiser. Until then, you will stay in your quarters and keep your mouth shut.”
I unclipped my blaster’s holster, and I leaned in close.
“If you can’t comply with this, let me know now.”
“Good, because you don’t want me to follow the protocol for someone who has committed treason,” I said as I left the room.

- - -
Eric White is a writer currently attending Full Sail University. Eric enjoys all forms of story telling, and he plans to one day utilize his skills within the entertainment industry.

Thursday, February 13, 2014


School's Out
By David Edward Nell

Cloud City – which happened to not be a cloud city in the literal sense – was unusually desolate for a morning setting; though it must be said that normality itself was regarded as offensive in this post-conformist world. Trends were different these days: buildings were constructed upside-down for style; each food item was required to taste like radish and be considered more enjoyable in that respect; meditation ten hours a day was compulsory if one excused oneself from work due to flu or if one broke the law; being watched by smiley-face drones warranted yourself a primetime television spot. Such was life. Emily didn't exactly understand, nor did she reckon her mother did either. But she did think it was nice, what the world was, whatever it was. The two of them had just left home, and Emily was thinking about all that stuff.

Mother warned, “I told you, I don't want you objectifying yourself for the whole world to see. And can't you walk faster? Already blooming late for your school's silent hall meeting.”

Emily stopped making funny faces to the smiley faces in the sky, and replied, “But aren't I going to be famous? Aren't I going to be a model if I keep doing this?”

“You will never be famous, because there is no such thing.”

“But then there is no such thing as anything, right? Because science class says reality is an illusion.”

“Keep saying that to yourself, honey. If it helps you get through school.”

“But the thing is, Mum, if nothing is real, I don't really need to go to school, do I?”

Mother planted her lips on Emily's nose and breathed in to keep her quiet. That did it. They rounded a corner and stumbled onto a large crowd fascinated by televisions playing behind an electronics shop display window. It seemed everyone and everything on the city block was present, even the drones, smiling alongside civilians. Mother stopped for a curious peek, and appeared startled by what was being shown. Emily likened her mother's gasp to the sound of a cat crying; however, to note once again, strange was not quite.

Emily remarked, “I thought we were late.” She spitefully went on walking but got tugged back to her mother.

Mother whispered, “The president of the world is speaking live. We must listen.”

“Who?” Emily asked. As she had raised her voice and revealed her ignorance, the crowd barked and glared at Emily as though she was the greatest traitor of all times.

“That's the president of the world.”

“Everyone knows the president of the world.”

“No one interrupts the president of the world.”

“You'll never be as great as the president of the world.”

“Have some respect, young money.” Young money was a derogatory term, of course.

And after they eyed her enough, they returned to the skeleton of a man with the big head on the televisions. Apparently he was saying important words.

“So, humanity has arrived to its most critical point in history. I, the president of the world, have made my decision regarding humanity's fate. Perhaps humanity has sealed its own fate. Indeed, we've made some peachy advances over the course of our history, but we've also done incredibly silly things, none worse than witnessed in recent years. For example, when we accidentally drew the moon nearer to us and caused enormous tidal waves, resulting in the complete obliteration of the South-Eastern Canadian region. Or when we destroyed all data servers because we thought they harboured digital malaria, resulting in the infamous data server riots which saw billions of social network user deletions and the rise of the warrior robots. Rest in peace. Or when we brutally crucified a shy, web-obsessed fellow who, we learned later, really was the second coming of Jesus Christ. And when we made memes poking fun at him. These mistakes show we have not evolved in the proper manner; that, in our present state, we are much too flawed. When President Hertz announced he had personally gotten rid of the nature of imperfection, we all wanted to believe. Alas, imperfection prevails. So, I had to do something about this once and for all. I said no more. I said it was time for action. Just an hour ago, I sat down with people-who-do-important-stuff for tea and biscuits. Discussing ways in which to reduce humanity's impact even further, we came to the first conclusion that we should all kill ourselves and apply for voluntary human extinction at our nearest goods stores. But then no one liked that idea, because who knows yet whether killing oneself sends one straight to hell or not? And who wants that? So this enlightened scientist dude who sleeps outside the parliament building offered up a truly marvelous idea: how about we start over? He said – after we cleaned him up and gave him a haircuit and a warm meal – that there is a way we can return to our source, and he has the solution. He wants to stick everyone with needles. And I say, that's fine. That's what we need. For in those needles lies our salvation. Millions of years of evolution bred a monster, and now the monster must be tamed. My friends across the world, we will start over. We will begin evolution anew. Starting right this minute, every single person in the world – including myself – will be transformed into jellyfish.”

The watching crowd grew restless. Some began speaking of escaping into the wilderness. Some said not to speak of such things. Some began fighting. Some were hugging. Some decided to play a last round of cards. Some were staring back at the drones like they already knew what was going to happen. Some were staring at the drones so they could get their last pose on camera. Emily's mother now looked concerned too.

“What's actually happening here?” Emily asked.

There was silence again when the president of the world continued.

“I need everyone to calm down and wait where you are. A black van is going to come pick you up and bring you to our laboratory, where you will then be injected, transformed and sent into the sea.”

And right then, a civilian went panicking down the street. Unfortunately for him, a drone caught his collar before he could get anywhere and picked him up into the air, disappearing somewhere.

Mother was even more distraught. She was biting her nails. “This is bad,” she kept repeating..

“I told you, remain where you are,” said the televisions. “Now you see what happens. Ugh. Anyway, on the bright side, at least you get to keep your souls–”

“Why's it bad?” Emily asked, pulling her mother's dress.

Mother looked down at Emily, her eyes wide. “What's wrong with you? This is the end. We're not going to be here anymore.”

“So? That's good.”


“Yes, because now there's no more school. Yay!”

- - -
David Edward Nell writes from Cape Town, South Africa. He can be touched at: .

Thursday, February 6, 2014


By Harris Tobias

Two men meet in a bar. They are time travelers from the future, stranded in our present. They have been coming to this bar regularly for many months to discuss their predicament.

“So here’s to good old 2540. May we see it again in our lifetimes.” Zeke, the older man raises his glass as he makes the familiar toast. Darran, a good twenty years his junior raises his and drinks the fiery liquid in one practiced swallow. Zeke, the senior man in this duo clearly outranks the nervous Darran both in maturity and confidence. Zeke sips his liquor slowly. When he is finished he asks, “Well, Darran, anything new to report?”

“No sir. This world is too big and the CHRON too small. It could be anywhere. I’m afraid it’s lost. They’re both lost. I’ve run out of places to look.”

“Lost for good. We might as well consider this time our home.” Zeke sighs. Darran fidgets. The sadness in Zeke’s eyes makes the young man squirm. Zeke has a wife and children back in the future. His being stranded is a far greater loss than the young man’s.

“You’ve retraced your steps?” Zeke asks.

“Only a million times. It’s all I do. I’ve been back to the same places so often they’re getting to know me. They must think I’m a lunatic.”

“Maybe we should go back together.” Zeke signals for another round.

“We tried that a few weeks ago, remember? Remember how uncomfortable you were? I swear if it wasn’t so tragic it would be funny.” A waitress brings the drinks. Zeke and Darran wait until she leaves before resuming their conversation.
“I don’t understand how you could lose two of ‘em. One was bad enough but why did you take mine?” Zeke can hardly contain the anger in his voice.

“You know how they communicate with each other? I thought I could use yours to locate mine.”

“Instead you managed to lose them both.”

“I said I was sorry. I said it a billion times. What do you want me to do, shoot myself?”

“I want you to find one of them so we can get out of here.” Zeke’s anger rises and he hits the table. Their drinks jump. The waitress and several others look up. “If you could only have kept you stupid fly zipped none of this would have happened. But no, you had to go to a brothel.”

Darran blushes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m young. I like women. There’s nothing in the rules that say you have to be celibate when you’re on a mission.”

The older man shakes his head. He understands. He did the same thing when he was a rookie. “So how do you like primitive girls?” Zeke asks lightening the mood considerably.

Darran is happy to move the subject away from his guilt. “You know what I love about these primitive girls?”

Zeke shakes his head. “No, tell me.”

“They have no confidence. Not like girls in our own time. These girls, all you have to do is flatter them a little bit and they hop right in the sack.”

“So why the brothel, if I may ask?”

Darran hangs his head and sighs. “Well maybe they’re not that easy.”

“So you go to a brothel, they knock you out with some drink and rob you of everything you have including your CHRON. Have I got that about right?”

“You know the story,” Darran mumbles and throws back his drink.

“Then, when I come to rescue you, you take my CHRON while I’m sleeping and manage to lose it too. You must be the biggest idiot in the Corps.”

“It wasn’t like that. I told you.”

“Tell me again.”

“You were asleep. I thought I could use your CHRON to link up with mine. You know how they attract each other. I thought I could find my CHRON and everything would be alright. I’d get it back and save my career. I thought it would all work out. I thought...”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You thought.” Zeke spits out the words, “If only you had. Then what happened?”

“Well, they recognized me. They thought I was there to make trouble. The bouncer meets me and he’s all aggressive, in my face, you know. One thing led to another. So I take a swing at him and it’s lights out.”

“And when you came to?”

“When I come to I’m in the street and my pockets are empty, my wallet and your CHRON are gone. I was stupid, Zeke. I’m sorry. I made a stupid mistake.”

“You ruined our lives is what you did. Got us stuck in this shithole of an era living with savages and for what? So you can get your rocks off? I don’t get it. I thought the Corps recruited the best and the brightest.”
“It’s not so bad here,” the kid says. Zeke snorts and his eyes roll.

“No, I’m serious. It’s not so bad, this time I mean. We could start over, you know, make a life. You gotta make the most out of it. It’s not so bad.” Darran has tears in his eyes when he says this. Zeke realizes he’s been too hard on the boy. He pats Darran’s arm in a fatherly way and orders another round.
“One thing I can say about the distant past— they sure have good scotch.”

- - -
Harris Tobias lives and writes in Charlottesville, Virginia. He is the author of two novels and dozens of short stories. His fiction has appeared in Ray Gun Revival, Dunesteef Audio Magazine, Every Photo Tells, Quantum Muse, Thrillers, Killers & Chillers, Eclectic Flash, E Fiction and several other obscure publications.

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