humanity
The evolution of humanity, from one advancement to the next.
Dancing in Starlight
She loved it. She wanted and needed more of it. The thrill of the drug is unbelievable and gave her a high never experienced before. She now felt lonely, depressed, like the world has lost all of its colors. The way home was dark, very dark, and now the drugs have completely disappeared from her system. She sits on a lonely park bench and breaks down into tears, thinking about abstract things like infinity. But this time, the voices are not responding to her inquiries. She misses the voices. He brings forth such knowledge even if they are nothing more than auditory hallucinations. She feels utterly sad as if she has been abandoned and has nobody left in the world. He even had the audacity to walk out on her after she had given a good three years of her life. Relationships are hell; she wishes that the events of the last two weeks could be erased. This is why she has been indulging in the high; it is a high like no other it seems to break down the walls of reality.
By Alberto Pupo9 years ago in Futurism
Tinni and the Chain
“Tinni, bring me my tea,” the old man said, one hand poised over the leather-bound tome on the desk before him. Tinni rose from his place in the corner, grunting as a great thundering pain pierced his back. The chain hurt more than usual. Some days it felt like little more than a finger nagging at his spine, but today it burned like fire. He pressed a gnarled hand to the place where the iron links poked out of his flesh and struggled to cross the room.
By Jeffrey Aaron Miller9 years ago in Futurism
Outrun Stories #2
He looked out onto the ocean, the pre-dawn moonlight sheen glowing a neon blue and mixing with the first hint of sun. The silhouette of the palm trees, an early morning runner with her dog. The waves crashing in the distance, their faint sound creeping through the floor-to-ceiling glass he stood behind, the shiver across his skin.
By Outrun Stories9 years ago in Futurism
Five Experiments That Show Your Universe Is Weird, Really Weird
We take our reality just like we take our tax preparers: solid and dependable, with an aversion to surprises. Experiments during the last few years, however, seem to indicate that our reality is less like a nerdy accountant buried in piles of 1040 forms and more like the half naked, fully drunk performance artist who thrives on not just surprising, but shocking the ever-loving crap out of us.
By Matt Swayne9 years ago in Futurism
The Limits
"I don't know how much longer I can take this." Elisa would have muttered those words only to herself were it not for her virtual buddy, Peter. Peter was her tag along. Everywhere she went, she made sure Peter followed. Elisa found Peter many months earlier while rummaging through an old, long abandoned robotics workshop. Elisa was a talented and brilliant woman, so it was only a matter of short time before she had figured out how to activate Peter through the embedded controls of the otherwise ordinary pair of glasses. Peter was an artificial intelligence whose only visible body was that of the glasses that were now a semi-permanent fixture settled on the bridge of Elisa's nose.
By Rod Christiansen9 years ago in Futurism
Brutalist Stories #1
“There’s a piano playing in my mind.” The fog glittered in the light from the lamps that circled him. A high note, a low note, a high note, a low note. Back and forth, back and forth. One for her, one for him. He looked up and away from the path in front of him to the ceiling of the dome and a high note rang through. A sonic hallucination, the vibration of the key and a memory flashing before him, projected onto the fog. Her smile, her laughter, a moment, a memory, a time and place far away from here.
By Brutalist Stories9 years ago in Futurism
Hero to Zero
The battle was over, so many were killed. War is an unimaginable horror, and this is the sort of war whose images of mechanized death are enough to create nightmares forever. He tosses and turns in his comfortable king sized bed, the pictures of the young men tattered and torn shred apart. He froze, and he ran like a coward. They towered over him by a good three feet, mechanized limbs and laser cannon barrels pointing right at his head. The moment of martyrdom was in front of him and one fell swoop he just pushed him. A human shield if you will, to be vaporized into ashes as he took a blast to save his life. In the heat of battle a moment of self-preservation, a kid from Sector 9 one of the worst shantytowns on the planet. There he was the decorated veteran, a name with generations of warriors and an incredible amount of inherited wealth. He cannot forget the look of the man in the mechanized suit. Disbelief at the act of cowardice he had just seen, he did not bother to take another shot and behind the glass, he remembers that twisted smile that haunts him still, he decided to let him live to live with the guilt of what he had done. He can't sleep.
By Alberto Pupo9 years ago in Futurism
My Greatest Achievement
It happened again today. His ego shattered, and he must pick up the pieces and move? Yes, very easy for people to say. He had given eight years of his life to her and her cause. She said it would be for the best. Like a good soldier, he fought, against all the odds, against creatures that were quite frankly terrifying. He was her rock; he has been shot at, bombed, taken a swim in a lake of fire, and even taken a bullet for this woman. Once he told her “I would follow you the ends of the Earth” and that he did. She was a pretty amazing woman. Strong, resolute, brilliant, funny when she wanted to be, and every once in a while she would fuck him and blow his mind. He misses her, but then today after so many years of fighting the good fight, after so many years of being by her side, she told him it was over.
By Alberto Pupo9 years ago in Futurism
The Anger
Rage, he has never been so enraged! The gall of these people. He is late for work, and they are simply standing there with a dazed look on their faces. He honks his horn they seem not to hear anything at all. He is suppressing the urge to get off his car and inflict great personal harm, but there is something bovine in their expressions he can't quite understand it. All this time, he continues to look into their eyes, but the expression is so damn vacant all it does it enrage him even further. Through his rearview mirror, he could see a conga line of angry drivers, people just like himself waiting to get to work. Some are desperately dialing their cell phones hoping that the boss will have mercy, pleading, hoping, making up excuses; you can hear the venom in their voices. He turns on the radio the sounds emanating from the stereo embody his frame of mind.
By Alberto Pupo9 years ago in Futurism
