The Future is Short: Science Fiction in a Flash - Volume 2

By Jot Russell

Science fiction anthology of microstories (flash fiction) based on the best from the second year of the Science Fiction Microstory Contest on LinkedIn's Sci-Fi group. Authors include: J. J. Alleson, Philo Ant, Neill Burnham, Clement Chow, Scott Michael Decker, Kalifer Deil, Rejoice Denhere, Carrol Fix, W. A. Fix, Paula Friedman, Kelly Graseck, Andrew Gurcak, Gary Hanson, Dean Hardage, Ami Hart, Thaddeus Howze, Thomas Nevin Huber, R. E. Jones, S. M. Kraftchak, Helmuth Kump, Andy Lake, EJ Lamprey, Richard S. Levine, Jeremy Lichtman, Heather MacGillivray, Andy McKell, Jeremy McLain, D C Mills, JD Mitchell, Timothy Paul, Marianne G. Petrino, Jon Ricson, Jot Russell, Carol Shetler, Tom Tinney, and J. F. Williams.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jot Russell
• Release date: Jun 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311010322

Jot Russell

Jot Russell is a writer and engineer from the North Shore of Long Island. As the creator and director of the Science Fiction Microstory contest on LinkedIn's Sci-Fi group, Jot has built international recognition from fellow writers and readers alike. Among dozens of stories, his longer works include Terra Forma, Open Source Government, Temporal Shift and Consortium.Terra Forma portrays the near future in which one man strives to unite the world through the task of creating another. The global project to terrform Mars invites danger on the founder and project workers operating asteroid tug vessels in space. This realistic view of the future could represent the birth of a new living world or the destruction of the Earth herself.Open Source Government is a non-fictional proposal for solving a number of national and international issues through a singular and simple method.Temporal Shift and Consortium are part of his international "Science Fiction Consortium" anthology that is now available. The lead is a time-travel story around 9/11 that walks the line between religious extremists and bigotry.

Book preview

The Future is Short

Science Fiction in a Flash

Volume 2

The Future is Short

Science Fiction in a Flash

Volume 2

Compiled and Published by

Jot Russell

Edited by

Carol Shetler

Cover Image by

Jessica Colvin

Foreword by

Jason Klassi

An Anthology of 76 Stories

by 36 Authors

Original Copyrights

Live and Let Live, Resurrection #59, The Bright Lights of Galrea 4 and With a Drop of Drambuie © 2014 by J. J. Alleson; A Time and a Place for Everyone © 2014 by Philo Ant; The Golden Eagle © 2014 by Neill Burnham; Mirrored Front-to-Back © 2014 by Clement Chow; Assassinated Reputations © 2014 by Scott Michael Decker; Confliction and Terminal Station © 2014 by Kalifer Deil; Never-Ending Story and The Fall Of Gowa © 2014 by Rejoice Denhere; Gift and Night Fear © 2013 by Carrol Fix; Gleet and the Shiny Thing, Nin's Glory and The Queen's Consul © 2014 by W. A. Fix; Morning Gift and Time’s Birth © 2013 by Paula Friedman; Sky © 2014 by Kelly Graseck; Fandom, Light, Latitude, Tolerance, Maturity and Obituaries and Their Authors © 2014 by Andrew Gurcak; Double Slit and Karma Rules All © 2014 by Gary Hanson; Buddha's Legacy and Visiting Hours © 2014 by Dean Hardage; Arts and Craftiness, Shadow of a Hope and The Dracul © 2014 by Ami Hart; Adleiavde and Never Late © 2014 by Thaddeus Howze; The Boys © 2014 by Thomas Nevin Huber; Time to Push the Envelope © 2014 by R. E. Jones; Passage and Unspoken Words © 2014 by S. M. Kraftchak; Me and Mr. Baker and The Immigrants © 2013 by Helmuth Kump; Endless, The Annual Charlton Heston Peace & Liberty Lecture, Christmas 2074, The Journey and The Winter of our Discontent © 2014 by Andy Lake; The Worst Time to Travel © 2013 by EJ Lamprey; Winners Take All © 2014 by Richard S. Levine; Apokalupsis, InsectPhones and Nine Facets © 2014 by Jeremy Lichtman; The Portal Mechanic and Where Hides the Star of the Sea? © 2014 by Heather MacGillivray; A Big Thing and Exodus © 2014 by Andy McKell; Où suis-je? © 2014 by Jeremy McLain; Birthday, Fall, In the Bleak Midwinter and Under the Dome © 2013 by D C Mills; Torches to Rome and You Live a Charmed Life, Andrew Liam Clare © 2014 by JD Mitchell; Guard Your Thoughts and Outpost 68 © 2014 by Timothy Paul; Scaffold and September © 2013 by Marianne G. Petrino; I Before E and Me and Jeff, in the Dark © 2014 by Jon Ricson; End of the World, Hive City, Solace and The Ninth Challenge © 2014 by Jot Russell; After the Flood and Dry Gulch © 2014 by Carol Shetler; Just Do It, RRA and Veteran 10.0 © 2014 by Tom Tinney; Clarence 1.0 and This Little Light © 2014 by J. F. Williams

The Future is Short

Science Fiction in a Flash

Volume 2

© 2015 by Jot Russell and Carol Shetler

Cover Image © 2015 by Jessica Colvin

All Rights Reserved Under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of any of the characters to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

Foreword

From the stories of space travel I’ve heard from the mouths of real astronauts, the future will be everything we can ever imagine. We simply have to experience space and time to truly know it. With The Future is Short—Science Fiction in a Flash, Volume 2, now we can… in a flash.

Like a powerful poem, each of the 76 short stories by 36 remarkable authors invites you to vicariously live a quick slice of life from someone else’s uniquely envisioned future. Each evocative vision explores an entirely new world and the emotional lives of everyday people who quickly begin to feel incredibly familiar. Viscerally, we relate to every character and their struggle to survive. When you reach the final words of their destiny, you suddenly find yourself in a new place, a new state-of-mind, dramatically transported into an eye-opening future.

If I could summarize this unparalleled collection in a few sentences, it would go like this:

Being born into this universe is a profound and unexpected gift, an ‘Unwanted Gift,’ as the first five stories explore. We didn’t ‘want’ to be here but we are… and it is indeed an awesome gift.

In our daily human existence we humbly endure some of the ‘Longest Nights’ often filled with bleakness, crime, fear—and, fortunately for us, love. Fueled by hope for the future we go the ‘Distance’ because we can see ‘Utopia’ lies ahead.

Like every classic hero in great literature and mythology we may face an ‘Apocalypse’ or ‘End of the World’ but we ultimately ‘Resurrect’ ourselves, continue our passage through unexplored territory and finally reach our destination.

There, we make ‘First Contact’ with another being, a person we once knew—ourselves. Upon achieving the ‘Ninth Challenge’ we may feel we’ve earned the opportunity to live ‘A Wonderful Life’. Yet, in our victorious ‘Triumph’ we win the chance to begin again ‘The Journey’ towards ‘Childhood’s End’. We excitedly prepare to depart and make the quest all over again. In the process, we discover treasure troves of truths for our civilization, badly in need of a greater awareness of itself.

- Jason Klassi, Emmy-nominated producer and award-winning author of The Everyday Space Traveler, with a foreword by Apollo 11 moonwalker Buzz Aldrin.

Unwanted Gift

November 2013

Theme: An Unwanted Gift

Elements: Travel; Forgetfulness

Winner: EJ Lamprey

The Worst Time to Travel

The Worst Time to Travel

EJ Lamprey

‘You look, if you don’t mind me saying so, absolutely fed up.’ The fat man, having thanked her for lifting her bag off the seat next to hers in the crowded waiting room, now seemed to want to make conversation and Carol sighed inwardly. But if it passed this interminable waiting time …

‘I hate travelling at any time. But most of all at this time of year.’

‘So why are you?’ He unwrapped a burger, his obvious anticipation undimmed by the soggy bun, flabby burger patty, and wisps of tired vegetable matter being revealed by the process, and she averted her eyes.

‘Oh—my daughter. She sent a note and a gift saying I had to open it immediately, and join them for Christmas. I’ve not been able to reach her, so there was nothing for it but to book. I don’t want it to be an emergency, but I’ll be a little cross if it isn’t. She knows how I hate to fly!’

‘Did you bring the gift?’ He lowered the sad limp burger, and looked intent. ‘What is it?’

‘You tell me.’ She produced what looked like a steel powder compact. ‘It does open, but there’s nothing inside. And anyway, who needs a powder compact these days? I’ve got a powder spray. She gave me that, too, several years ago, so she knows I don’t need a compact.’

‘Well, now,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘And those powder sprays―several years ago, you said? But they only came on the market a few months ago.’

‘Yes, I know, but she works with new inventions. Did you ever used to watch that TV show about a town filled with scientists and inventors? A bit like that, but no direct contact with the outside world, that’s why I couldn’t reach her.’

‘And that’s where you’re going?’

‘Yes.’ She eyed him warily, suddenly aware she’d said more to this total stranger than she should. Holly had asked her never to discuss anything about the Centre.

He gave the compact back and took a bite of his burger, and she blinked. Just for a second, as he bit into it, the patty had looked thick and delicious, topped with crisp lettuce, juicy tomato and a generous supply of fried onion rings—the sort of burgers she’d made for Holly and Nicholas, when they were young. The impression was so vivid she could actually smell it, and her mouth watered automatically—then he was chewing, and for all his obvious enjoyment, the portion left in his hand looked as tired and limp as it had before. She looked away politely and focused on the tired, irritable and fretful passengers around them, staring with dulled eyes at the departures board which flickered again. ALL FLIGHTS DELAYED.

‘Not much Christmas spirit, is there?’ He really was a very rosy man, against that snow-white hair and tidy beard. ‘Tell me, did you ever ask her for anything in particular?’

‘No. Well.’ She laughed despite herself at the memory. ‘I asked her not to expect me to travel ever again until they invented a teleporter! I’d forgotten that. So did she, obviously.’

‘She didn’t.’ His eyes lit with laughter. ‘Carol, for security reasons she sent the instructions separately, and they got stolen. You go find a private corner, open the compact, and tell it to take you to Holly.’

She stared at him and he twinkled merrily.

‘I’m by way of being in the Christmas business, Carol. And I love the way your family names reflect my traditions. Now off you go and have a wonderful holiday with your family.’ With that he started to laugh, an old-fashioned belly laugh. ‘I’ve got some planes to sort out! Ho ho ho!’

---o0o---

Me and Mr. Baker

Helmuth Kump

I know y'all need a statement, but I gotta start at the beginning, or you'll jump to the wrong conclusion. Don't ask me to cut to the chase or anything, it's not a simple story so I'm not going to condense it for you. I'm not the kind of girl you think.

So last year I met this guy, Joe, on the shuttle, okay? We were both heading here to the colonies, like everyone is these days. Well, even at Mach 23 it was a long flight. He was hitting on me, and he had such a nice smile. To be honest I just caved. I mean, I know I'm attractive but I'm not really a ten anymore, so I was just happy that someone was showing me some attention. I think they used to call it the mile-high club, right? Well, we became members, twice. Didn't hear from him after the flight though.

So I got settled in here on Colony Fourteen. After a couple of months, I started feeling awful. I found out during a bioscan that my mile-high pal Joe had given me HIV, and yeah I know there's all these treatments now and I wouldn't die, but I was still depressed. HIV―I couldn't believe it.

The nurse's aide there was real nice and suggested I join a support group for poz patients. So I did. I met a lot of nice people there, and even got a job at the health center. That's where I met Mr. Baker. We became friends, but then our friendship went to a strange place.

Now, I had read in Cosmo that this stuff was getting popular, but at first I thought, this is not for me. Interspecies, Mr. Baker called it. I know they breed the creatures to be safe; they don't care about your HIV status, and they won't get you pregnant, right? I mean they even have different personalities, and I could choose bad boys or nerdy types, gentle or rough, do I have to spell it out for you? And I know I should have been more careful but Mr. Baker convinced me there's no chance of anything bad happening, and why not have a complete life again?

God, this is tough. Mr. Baker kinda took me under his wing, but of course he wanted something in return. This is embarrassing to admit, but I would let him watch me with these things. I mean he knew where to get these creatures, and he paid for everything. I have to admit it started being real exciting; they all had these different skills, if you know what I mean. Whenever there was one I really liked, Mr. Baker got it for me again. And I even started feeling better about myself and lost some weight. Mr. Baker was happy, and I was happy.

Right. Until last night.

I'm not sure where he got this one, but once it got started the thing was super-aggressive and just went to town on me. It wouldn't stop when I, uh, when I was done. So I'm pushing this thing off me; it was just too much. I started yelling for Mr. Baker to come over and help me, you know? I was so scared! So of course he had been sitting there naked, he comes over and tries to help, grabbing it from behind and pulling.

Well the thing held on pretty good, but finally with me pushing and him pulling, we got it off me. So now it was pissed off and still in the mood, so to speak, so it scrambled around and started, you know, on Mr. Baker!

I'm not sure if it was confused or what, but Mr. Baker was in bad shape because the thing started whaling away on him. The creature got bigger and bigger, and poor Mr. Baker started to scream. There was no way I was going to be able to help him, and I was afraid the thing would come after me again so I grabbed my clothes and hurried out of there. Once I was out in the hallway I called nine-one-one, but I kinda knew Mr. Baker was a goner.

The thing is, in all the excitement, both of us forgot that these things have a safety switch. You touch them anywhere with three fingers and say disconnect at the same time, and they stop. I never had to use it. I can't believe we both forgot that! So of course I feel horrible because the whole thing was so avoidable. But y'all gotta believe I had nothing to do with Mr. Baker's death. It was self-defense for me to get out of there as quickly as I could.

You know, I love my job at the health center, and if this ever got out I would really be screwed. Let me rephrase that: I might lose my job and have my private life splashed all over the news. I don't want that!

Well, I don't find that funny at all. Y'all are creeps.

---o0o---

Morning Gift

Paula Friedman

They came in the gold light of morning, carrying it between them through Earth’s dawn. Two of them, Comblings clad in the gilded yellow offworld capes of official messengers, silent from their interstellar voyage, rang the bronze chimes of her heartwood door.

Your gift arrives at last, the taller Combling sang, had you forgotten it? and spun upon his tail; the smaller wreathed its feelers in a Combling smile and waved the Gifting pictures, Have you gleaned every knowledge of our universe, gained all its honors, multiplied, and loved, and sought—smiling and smiling—so to forget this gift, your Gift? Then the tender evening-blue of moonlight flared and faded in the dawn as all along the willow-wand both Comblings danced and danced the Worlds United polka and the Federation waltz.

She stood, veiled by the silver-threads curtain that hung, in accord with Allworld lifeways, from the window of her cabin loft, and watched them pat Earth’s soil and place the gift, then lower twin bronzed helmets on twin stanchions tight across their faces, take twelve steps, salute the ground, and disappear.

Going home to their own systems—worlds where Earth’s people, too, now could go.

It was only in my day we learned of the Billion Worlds, she’d told her great-great-great-grandchildren, during her 183rd birthday (THE Birthday) dinner served on the ancient Merka silvered plastic vessels, in the long dining hall beneath the portraits and certificates from her famed years of struggles and triumphs; Imagine—only then. At that, her youngest great-great-grandson, Ricardo, had yawned, covering his mouth while he patted small Jimmy’s hair, and trying not to grin. We didn’t have space drive yet, she finished. No, these long-young folks saw the old as garrulous; only with time would Ricardo, and someday Jimmy, learn the true costs of such yawns. Imagine, she’d said then. Imagine the world, the whole living system isolate, in galactic silence. Alone.

Julie had sweet-smiled, Tell us, Nana. Then also yawned.

But, after all, the trip must have so wearied them, the three Warp-ferries from the Outer Aldebarans. You must be worn out, children, she had told them, coming all this way across the Void just to hear old grand-grand-Nana’s boring stories. Come, let’s lay the beds. Clearly embarrassed, and with Ricardo supervising, Jimmy and Julie had helped her to clear the table and to drag the futons to a clear-room, laying them out beneath the seasons’ stars and moon and night-globes. Goodnight, beloveds, she’d added, hearing little Jimmy’s ’night-night, Nana.

And again, they still were kids. Maybe not quite so loving as once, caught up in their own days and ways, only rarely able to find time, Nana, but we shall try to get there soon—even so, what warmth they must feel to travel, all her great-great-great-children unto generations, crowding compartments of a space ferry for twenty days and two more days and then one night, to see how you are doin’, Gran-Gran-Grans, to share our gifts.

Wasn’t that the way? The way of it? As it was and ever had been, since the coming of the Federated Worlds. Like the Gifting for THE Birthday. Soon, sooner, and then now.

Closing her lined, heavy eyelids, she could see the old encounter. The whispering, half-submerged excitement, fear and terror, her own sturdy mother trembling, someone’s tears. It had been late on the day of her sixteenth birthday—sudden pink glows, so that she had thought, surprised, Someone’s giving me a birthday fireworks display, but then had seen the streaks across the sky. Now she remembered it, all of it—she leaned back on her chair, her thin white hair still bright against the forest-gold tapestried upholstery. Yes, now she recalled those hours, sudden sighting of approaching liners, everybody hanging out their windows or racing for their cars, and knowing there was nowhere they could go. A heavy, wearing terror had appeared among all peoples—months of terror. Then the growing trust. Soon, the giftings—solutions to hunger, cures for illnesses, the Ways of Sharing, end of war. The healing forests. The music and hope. Great gifting of lengthened life.

Not infinite, but equally shared. Loving. Living. The gifts. She remembered now.

And, remembering, rose from the chair and left the loft.

She descended the marble staircase, smiled across the silvery window to dawn’s waking light. Afraid, of course, and angry. Helpless. For there was no way—had never been—for anyone of any world to refuse the Gift. The Gift brought in the gold-wrought caskets of the dancing Comblings of this universe of time.

It makes us love life more. No matter—time and its guardian minions, the Combling yellow dancers, brought the (gentling, easeful) Gift that had no bound and thus could not be fled. Screaming inside and shivering, she opened the crystalline panes to its reprise.

---o0o---

Gift

Carrol Fix

Don't give me that!

Glenda shoved the beautifully wrapped package back across the counter top.

But, ma'am, this is what you requested, the clerk insisted, pushing it toward her again.

I did not! Glenda hissed, taking a step away from the glass jewelry case. I want to speak to the manager!

The man was at her shoulder. Do we have a problem? he asked smoothly.

Glenda felt dizzy. She turned to face him and was captured by his black stare. Cold ice shivered down her spine. Where... when... had she seen those eyes before?

She used one hand to steady herself against the counter. The package touched her fingers and she flinched.

Perhaps we could speak in private. His hand on her elbow guided her to a small door at the back of the shop. The package appeared in his other hand... or had he picked it up and brought it with him?

No..., she breathed, resisting his urging. The door opened by itself and she stepped through. The man was gone and the package