Even with Light Travel, even with the most advanced defensive measures, accidents happen. These accidents are usually small oversights, and are fixed with a simple re calibration, or a reschedule. The bigger accidents leave a few people injured, or dead. But nothing was ever as devastating as the view from the lunar surface, catching humanity's first great crash in their history of space travel.
A ship had been orbiting Earth for several months, vast and powerful, this ship was almost fully-constructed. Changes in radiation levels had caused the workers to move the ship's orbit, hoping to avoid unnecessary exposure. Before they had time to alert their commanders of their change in movement, however, something drastic happened. Another ship had just warped into orbit. Without time to react, both ships collided, and havoc ensued.
The lunar sky was soon filled with debris, and bodies. Air was sucked from both ships, and the combined mass was only colliding further, as gravity warped the two together. Three escape pods had left, their fiery trails fleeing from the wreckage, dropping to the moon. Steel melted, glass glittered around, like a million extra stars had been added to the galaxy. Heat created powerful explosions, shattering the ships like ceramic, lighting up in a great ball of fire, engulfing the empty space around, for a moment appearing larger than the sun. Before more could be viewed, shield generators were sent, turning the sky an electric green. For weeks, the shields stayed, occasionally flashing bright as they absorbed the impacts directed towards them.
Thousands died, and the debris created thereafter took months to burn up, or be recycled by local collectors. Only 112 bodies were able to be collected.
Saturday, May 21, 2016
Sunday, May 15, 2016
The Well
If you stare into the abyss long enough, the abyss will stare back.
I can't remember who wrote that first, or even what they actually meant by the phrase. I've always imagined it was one of those sayings that you already had to relate with to fully understand. But if the phrase was meant to be taken literally...
Then I finally understand it. At least, I think so. I can't be sure what I'm looking at right now, in the gaping maw that I've called a well for as long as I can remember. The hole below is too deep to see the bottom, and the resulting darkness has always been a sight of refuge for me, ever since I could climb to the stone top of the well, and peer down into the inky blackness, imagining the nothingness was the only other thing in the world with me. Using it to hold my thoughts as they came through, and creating insight I'd never imagined before.
But this time, I could swear I saw something. It's impossible, I know... It has to be my eyes, adjusting to the dark. Or a result of sensory deprivation. There can't be anything down there, not alive at least, not... Staring at me, with red glowing eyes.
Shaking the image out of my head, I lean back, away from the black below, and turn for home. That's when I hear it. What sounds like wet mud being slapped against the stone, as though someone had smacked it against the well. I turn around, the hairs on my neck standing up, and peer back into the well. For a moment, there is nothing. Suddenly, the same pair of eyes I'd seen those few minutes ago open up, bigger, closer than before, and even without a mouth to see, I know it's smiling. At me.
I run faster than I ever have before, straight for home, only thirty feet away. My heart pounds in my throat, as my feet slam into the ground, and my arms pump hard. As I shut the door loudly, I can see the blood vessels in my eyes, fluctuating with every beat of my heart. Shaken, and scared, I peek out of the living room window, at the well far away. The sun is just setting over the horizon, but I can't pay attention to the beautiful pinks and reds in the sky. I stare at the well, waiting for something, anything to happen. But nothing does.
I refuse to look away, however, even after it's gotten dark. I know I saw something. I just know...
I'm ripped from my thoughts as I watch, eyes wide in horror, at the black figure crawling up above the well below. Its form is slender and jagged, but has fluid motion as it moves over the wall, onto the grass, crawling on hands and feet. Its head slinks in my direction, and its eyes immediately lock onto mine.
I shut the curtains quickly, before turning to the kitchen, stumbling for the phone. I grab it, thumbing the numbers 9-1-1, waiting for the operator. Absolutely no sound escapes from the phone. Gasping in shock, I throw the phone, losing my breath as I panic. My head turns to the door, and there IT is. It looks human, now. A pure-black shadow, imprinted on my door. The red eyes are the only hint that it ISN'T a shadow. That, and... The feeling of dread that overcomes me, as I look at its form. Its form, from which several dozen tentacles protrude, extending towards me from every direction, which slowly grasp me. I want to run, but... I feel myself relax, to the point of paralysis. My mind melts away, and everything feels warm...
I have one last moment of full, agonizing consciousness, trying feebly to break free from my restraints, before everything fades to that familiar black...
I can't remember who wrote that first, or even what they actually meant by the phrase. I've always imagined it was one of those sayings that you already had to relate with to fully understand. But if the phrase was meant to be taken literally...
Then I finally understand it. At least, I think so. I can't be sure what I'm looking at right now, in the gaping maw that I've called a well for as long as I can remember. The hole below is too deep to see the bottom, and the resulting darkness has always been a sight of refuge for me, ever since I could climb to the stone top of the well, and peer down into the inky blackness, imagining the nothingness was the only other thing in the world with me. Using it to hold my thoughts as they came through, and creating insight I'd never imagined before.
But this time, I could swear I saw something. It's impossible, I know... It has to be my eyes, adjusting to the dark. Or a result of sensory deprivation. There can't be anything down there, not alive at least, not... Staring at me, with red glowing eyes.
Shaking the image out of my head, I lean back, away from the black below, and turn for home. That's when I hear it. What sounds like wet mud being slapped against the stone, as though someone had smacked it against the well. I turn around, the hairs on my neck standing up, and peer back into the well. For a moment, there is nothing. Suddenly, the same pair of eyes I'd seen those few minutes ago open up, bigger, closer than before, and even without a mouth to see, I know it's smiling. At me.
I run faster than I ever have before, straight for home, only thirty feet away. My heart pounds in my throat, as my feet slam into the ground, and my arms pump hard. As I shut the door loudly, I can see the blood vessels in my eyes, fluctuating with every beat of my heart. Shaken, and scared, I peek out of the living room window, at the well far away. The sun is just setting over the horizon, but I can't pay attention to the beautiful pinks and reds in the sky. I stare at the well, waiting for something, anything to happen. But nothing does.
I refuse to look away, however, even after it's gotten dark. I know I saw something. I just know...
I'm ripped from my thoughts as I watch, eyes wide in horror, at the black figure crawling up above the well below. Its form is slender and jagged, but has fluid motion as it moves over the wall, onto the grass, crawling on hands and feet. Its head slinks in my direction, and its eyes immediately lock onto mine.
I shut the curtains quickly, before turning to the kitchen, stumbling for the phone. I grab it, thumbing the numbers 9-1-1, waiting for the operator. Absolutely no sound escapes from the phone. Gasping in shock, I throw the phone, losing my breath as I panic. My head turns to the door, and there IT is. It looks human, now. A pure-black shadow, imprinted on my door. The red eyes are the only hint that it ISN'T a shadow. That, and... The feeling of dread that overcomes me, as I look at its form. Its form, from which several dozen tentacles protrude, extending towards me from every direction, which slowly grasp me. I want to run, but... I feel myself relax, to the point of paralysis. My mind melts away, and everything feels warm...
I have one last moment of full, agonizing consciousness, trying feebly to break free from my restraints, before everything fades to that familiar black...
First Contact
First Contact was a relatively rare thing to occur in these times of the Space Age. When a new inhabitable planet was discovered, it was either lifeless, or primitive. However, the technology remained on certain diplomatic ships, as First Contact did still occasionally happen. However, even with Faster-Than-Light travel, ships would still require minutes or even hours to arrive, and both sides, human and new race, had to be in a mutual stalemate for First Contact to be a peaceful occurrence, luckily, it usually was.
On the outskirts of the Human Empire, a small colony grew. This extension of Human influence was not the first, and marked the 23rd star system to be under control. This planet was relatively underdeveloped, and as a result, was missing a few key components for the empire. Mainly, this meant that signals were broadcast at a slower speed, and ships which orbited the planet were mainly designed for defense, or scavenging.
It was then that one of the most uncommon situations humanity could face had occurred: an undiscovered alien race had warped into orbit around the planet. Unprepared, the colonists below at first mistook the ship for a new design on another species, and attempted speaking from their list of known greetings, hoping to get a response. This was against galactic regulations, in which the Human Empire greatly stressed to allow outsiders to speak first if the ship was unidentifiable.
Defending ships were unsure of this newcomer, and had already begun forming defensive positions, raising their shields in the event of enemy fire. The arriving ship looked much bigger than a simple fighter or carrier, and the colonists expected that it had to be a colony ship, battleship, or diplomatic ship. This left three possible scenarios which could play out. However, the first words said back to the humans on-planet were spoken in English, though it was obvious they didn't know it well.
"Not our language. Not our objective. Evacuate."
This understandably scared the humans stationed around the planet, and an immediate order was issued: This is not a peaceful vessel. It must be destroyed at all costs. As humans fired upon the behemoth ship, it fired back, and the resulting casualties left most of the defending fleet in ruins, bodies and debris orbiting the once-clean planet. But with these losses, came victory, as the attacker was annihilated in the battle.
Humans cheered for their victory. However, this victory was short-lived, as new reports came in of an approaching missile, big enough to completely destroy the entire planet that humans had colonized only a short while ago. Their on-planet signals hadn't been able to pick up the missile until then, and by the time word got back to the capital, the missile was only twenty standard planet-lengths away. This meant the missile would hit in approximately three days. It took four to send the transmission. It would take four or five to get one back.
The colonists made a hasty evacuation, leaving 70% of the citizens behind, and taking what resources and provisions they could. If nothing else, they were able to scan the missile's and the former attacker's point of origin: they pointed toward the same star system. As the planetary leader left their new world, they began a transmission to the attackers.
"We've found you. We are not afraid. And we're coming."
On the outskirts of the Human Empire, a small colony grew. This extension of Human influence was not the first, and marked the 23rd star system to be under control. This planet was relatively underdeveloped, and as a result, was missing a few key components for the empire. Mainly, this meant that signals were broadcast at a slower speed, and ships which orbited the planet were mainly designed for defense, or scavenging.
It was then that one of the most uncommon situations humanity could face had occurred: an undiscovered alien race had warped into orbit around the planet. Unprepared, the colonists below at first mistook the ship for a new design on another species, and attempted speaking from their list of known greetings, hoping to get a response. This was against galactic regulations, in which the Human Empire greatly stressed to allow outsiders to speak first if the ship was unidentifiable.
Defending ships were unsure of this newcomer, and had already begun forming defensive positions, raising their shields in the event of enemy fire. The arriving ship looked much bigger than a simple fighter or carrier, and the colonists expected that it had to be a colony ship, battleship, or diplomatic ship. This left three possible scenarios which could play out. However, the first words said back to the humans on-planet were spoken in English, though it was obvious they didn't know it well.
"Not our language. Not our objective. Evacuate."
This understandably scared the humans stationed around the planet, and an immediate order was issued: This is not a peaceful vessel. It must be destroyed at all costs. As humans fired upon the behemoth ship, it fired back, and the resulting casualties left most of the defending fleet in ruins, bodies and debris orbiting the once-clean planet. But with these losses, came victory, as the attacker was annihilated in the battle.
Humans cheered for their victory. However, this victory was short-lived, as new reports came in of an approaching missile, big enough to completely destroy the entire planet that humans had colonized only a short while ago. Their on-planet signals hadn't been able to pick up the missile until then, and by the time word got back to the capital, the missile was only twenty standard planet-lengths away. This meant the missile would hit in approximately three days. It took four to send the transmission. It would take four or five to get one back.
The colonists made a hasty evacuation, leaving 70% of the citizens behind, and taking what resources and provisions they could. If nothing else, they were able to scan the missile's and the former attacker's point of origin: they pointed toward the same star system. As the planetary leader left their new world, they began a transmission to the attackers.
"We've found you. We are not afraid. And we're coming."
Thursday, May 12, 2016
Observation
Looking out through the window of my 14th-story apartment, I look out through the world of concrete, steel and glass, past the thin veil of smog and pollution, down to the little ants far below. I wonder where they are all going, little calculations in my head estimate the percentages, but there is always a margin of error with these things. I calculate 70% are moving to work or home from work, 15% are going to a social outing, party, or date, and 15% are going to somewhere else, somewhere I can't calculate. Family or friend's house, a walk in the park, that sort of thing. It is this percentage that I often find keeps me up at night. This percentage is unpredictable, to me, yet also just as predictable as the 70%. If I ever chose to follow one of them to their destination, to find out just where they were going, their actions, their movements, would be predictable, and each turn on a street could greatly diminish the list of directions they may be headed.
I finish off my cup of coffee, throw on my jacket, and head out the door. One of my neighbors, three doors to my right, also leaves, right on schedule. We exchange pleasantries, and his mention of passing a cemetery on the way to work triggers my mind. I've known his route to work for a few months, now, and I've seen the very graveyard he passes each and every morning. His mention of it today tells me someone close to him died. We enter the elevator together, and I take the moment to study him. His posture is a bit more sullen than usual, though he's working hard to hide it. His clothes are bland, featureless, though I've always known him for wearing colourful shirts, always with some kind of sarcastic joke printed on the front. I see a ring missing from his finger, one I've always seen before.
As we leave the elevator, I apologize for the loss of his wife, and as he looks at me with shock, I make a mental note to deduce her cause of death later. I rush off before he can say another word, get into my car, and begin heading down several dozen roads, making sporadic turns, trying my best not to be what everyone else is: predictable.
Finally, after a 15 minute drive, I come to a stop outside a brick building, leave my car, and walk through the door marked "Private Eye". Sitting in my cozy chair, I play my answering machine, and tune my ears to the messages that swiftly follow...
I finish off my cup of coffee, throw on my jacket, and head out the door. One of my neighbors, three doors to my right, also leaves, right on schedule. We exchange pleasantries, and his mention of passing a cemetery on the way to work triggers my mind. I've known his route to work for a few months, now, and I've seen the very graveyard he passes each and every morning. His mention of it today tells me someone close to him died. We enter the elevator together, and I take the moment to study him. His posture is a bit more sullen than usual, though he's working hard to hide it. His clothes are bland, featureless, though I've always known him for wearing colourful shirts, always with some kind of sarcastic joke printed on the front. I see a ring missing from his finger, one I've always seen before.
As we leave the elevator, I apologize for the loss of his wife, and as he looks at me with shock, I make a mental note to deduce her cause of death later. I rush off before he can say another word, get into my car, and begin heading down several dozen roads, making sporadic turns, trying my best not to be what everyone else is: predictable.
Finally, after a 15 minute drive, I come to a stop outside a brick building, leave my car, and walk through the door marked "Private Eye". Sitting in my cozy chair, I play my answering machine, and tune my ears to the messages that swiftly follow...
Monday, May 9, 2016
Endless Desert
I wipe the dust from my face, licking my cracked lips with a dry tongue. The sun above glares down on me, forcing my eyes to squint as I stare into the shifting sands in every direction. No sign of water. Everything's dead.
I trudge through the loose sands, burying me up to my knees as I move on. I keep hope in the back of my head, hoping for some sort of lifeline, some source of moisture in this hot, hellish Wasteland. But wishful thinking doesn't bring rain, especially not to a cloudless sky. The only thing protecting me from the harmful rays of the sun is a layer of dust high above, too thin to fully block the sky, but thick enough to be prominent, and to glow a brownish-red by sunset. How I wish it could be sunset.
Instead, I endure the heat beating through my skin, seeming to melt my bones as I move forward, legs baking in the sand. A faint clicking catches my attention, and I take a look at the Geiger counter in my hand. Radiation. Could it be water?
I don't rush. I learned better than that long ago. Instead, I follow the clicking, peering out through the dust storm around me, searching desperately for a hint of blue, of life. Despite the endless, dark orange colour of sand, I follow the sound of my Geiger counter, possibly throwing survival away on a mere hunch.
If only the sun hadn't made my sight so bad. Maybe then I wouldn't be crying out now, falling into the water below, listening to the ticking speed up, knowing in an instance my fate. Radiation poisoning. The water is safe enough to drink, with filtration, or in very minute amounts, but being covered in it, that's a death sentence. It's only a matter of time before I vomit and defecate the remaining moisture inside me. A slow, painful way to die.
I dunk my head in the water, hoping to all decency that no one else has to find this water, with my no-doubt decayed body rotting in the radioactive soup...
I trudge through the loose sands, burying me up to my knees as I move on. I keep hope in the back of my head, hoping for some sort of lifeline, some source of moisture in this hot, hellish Wasteland. But wishful thinking doesn't bring rain, especially not to a cloudless sky. The only thing protecting me from the harmful rays of the sun is a layer of dust high above, too thin to fully block the sky, but thick enough to be prominent, and to glow a brownish-red by sunset. How I wish it could be sunset.
Instead, I endure the heat beating through my skin, seeming to melt my bones as I move forward, legs baking in the sand. A faint clicking catches my attention, and I take a look at the Geiger counter in my hand. Radiation. Could it be water?
I don't rush. I learned better than that long ago. Instead, I follow the clicking, peering out through the dust storm around me, searching desperately for a hint of blue, of life. Despite the endless, dark orange colour of sand, I follow the sound of my Geiger counter, possibly throwing survival away on a mere hunch.
If only the sun hadn't made my sight so bad. Maybe then I wouldn't be crying out now, falling into the water below, listening to the ticking speed up, knowing in an instance my fate. Radiation poisoning. The water is safe enough to drink, with filtration, or in very minute amounts, but being covered in it, that's a death sentence. It's only a matter of time before I vomit and defecate the remaining moisture inside me. A slow, painful way to die.
I dunk my head in the water, hoping to all decency that no one else has to find this water, with my no-doubt decayed body rotting in the radioactive soup...
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