Julia's hands only tremble a little as she untangles the wire leads of the illicit memory-sharing device. That's to be expected, she rationalizes to herself, when connecting one's brain directly to an untested experimental technology in a dim, cramped living room of a one-bedroom apartment...
That summer evening in the garden of her ancestors when Pamoda Nostrei Dontárnio slid the ancient sword from its sheath, she heard a voice: Don’t be an idiot, Pamo.
Karl sat at an uncomfortably expensive table, across from a grieving middle-aged couple who were slowly, silently processing his sales pitch.
Some of us have been seeing ghosts in the halls of the Hummingbird. I saw one myself. In fact, I saw myself.
The man with only a mouth takes the seat next to Melissa, even though the star liner’s passenger deck is otherwise empty. She remains silent, waiting for the man to speak as she processes how best to discard the last year of her life, the one she lived on a world she’ll likely never step foot on again.
The first dead scientist she’d found had scrawled in his own blood, “Upon darkness, seven types of hell will descend.” Everyone on the recovery team had agreed they’d heed that warning and bug out before dark.
Madison leaned forward with exaggerated care, bent down, and peered into the eyepiece of her younger brother’s backyard telescope. There! In the center of the viewfield hung the Visitor. At least that’s what all the news feeds called it.
“Sunday! Sunday! It’s Sunday and that means it’s Primetime for Crimetime! I’m Bryce Boyd for WFLK The Flock, with non-stop coverage of the best punishments fully licensed under the New Penal Authority…”
The atmosphere wouldn’t allow my companions the dignity of fire. The ship instead collapsed like a house of cards. There was barely a sound. I might have imagined the sound for their sake, since, though eulogies may be given, they’ll be delivered from a distance even ghosts can’t hear. That was eight hours ago.
If Earth people had to breathe Martian air, I think they’d make more effort to look after their own. For one thing there isn’t much of it. You’d have trouble getting it into your lungs in the first place. And once there, it wouldn’t do any good. There’s plenty of oxygen, but it’s all bound with carbon, which isn’t going to let it go to keep humans alive. You could last a few minutes, and few more if you had time to prepare, but you’ll suffocate soon enough.
