We had fifteen minutes.
It took three for Nuru to wake up properly; the tray rattled out of the wall like a final breath, dispensing her with all the clinical efficiency of a morgue. Her fingers were cold. Too cold.
All in Sci-Fi
Memetic fever
New York was a half-alive ruin; electronic billboards smashed and window displays boarded over, tipped up and trashed. DataVision on 38th looked like a storm had hit it. An empty plastic bag fluttered in the breeze, snagged on a shard of broken glass in one of the windows. A desultory flag for the new age.
When we left the city
August 23rd
Camping sucks in the worst way possible, and that’s when you know that you’re only going to have to endure two, three days tops pestered by mozzies and squelching in the mud. But I guess when the other option’s death, it’s not so bad.
Eight good reasons
The day had started off well for professor Frank Rouass, but had taken an unexpected nose dive around lunchtime, when an alarm had been set off. What kind of alarm, Rouass was unsure - the knock-out gas had been piped through the ventilation at approximately the same time, and it left his recollection blurry.
Melodic Decompression
The problem with modern technology, Khopesh mused as he dug through wires and displays, was that the things weren’t tested by anyone who actually had to use them, and everyone seemed loathe to install so much as a tiny ‘manual override’ button in case some tyke smacked it and sent trillions of dollars hurtling to a fiery doom.
Reboot
Only thirty-nine years ago, people had to live with all the detritus of their lives, all their messy emotions and foolish embarrassments swirling through their brains, making it hard to think straight, see clearly.
Documents of life
I don’t remember much about my dad, but what I do remember was that, no matter what, he always had some sort of work to do. He’d be on the phone or locked in his office or rushing out the door, papers under his arm and a kiss on the cheek for mum.
π-geons
Some pieces of paper, a pen and a tattered copy of John Brunner’s ‘Stand on Zanzibar’ to sell the idea that he was here for pleasure. An idle watcher, as the world passed him by. Perhaps he fancied himself well-read, a gentleman.
Storm-caller
Something else moved within the clouds, hidden from view.
Every now and then, lightning would earth itself on one of the towering skeletons that jutted great metal ribs from the dry earth.
Eamonn watched the skies intently, glasses reflecting the brilliance of the lightning.
Forgotten Ones
The rain hammered on the streets, running from rivulets to rivers and sinking into bone as it roared from the sky. Carral hurried through the ruins, looking for shelter. With the stinging silver rains came the fog. And with the fogs came the... things.