Collected Stories: Science Fiction 1

By Seth Giolle

This is Volume 1 of my Science Fiction Collected Stories. These stories touch on varied plot and science fiction elements, and they tailor to a science fiction mind of all ages, well, most ages. And open minds are preferable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Dec 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9781304741226

Seth Giolle

Seth Giolle was born on a small, rural farm in southeast Ontario. After Travelling throughout Canada in all its splendour, he once again makes Ontario his home.

Book preview

Collected Stories

Science Fiction

By Seth Giolle

Volume 1

Other Works by the Author:

The Bonds that Bind

Book 1 of the Legacy of Auk Tria Yus

The Foundations of Power

Book 2 of the Legacy of Auk Tria Yus

Breadth of Legend

Book 3 of the Legacy of Auk Tria Yus

Heart, Soul, and Steel

Book 4 of the Legacy of Auk Tria Yus

Collected Stories

Science Fiction

(Volumes 2 and 3)

Drama - Adult

Drama – Youth, Teen

Youth Adventure

(Volumes 1, 2, and 3)

Adult Adventure

The Amulets of Aazlim

A How-To Guide to Making your Own

Player-based, group run, inPerson

RPG Game

Collected Poems

Grun’s Tales

A Note from the Author,

Hello, this collection of stories involves more than one sub-genre. As these stories are designed for different audiences, I suggest the reader pay heed to the table of contents before reading certain stories. In the table of contents, stories are listed by Page Number; Protagonist, Genre; Word Count, and Story Title. The Page Number and Story Title are self-explanatory. The Word Count is a drawback to writing classes and magazine submittal guidelines. In each case, stories are defined by how many words they possess, not how many pages they might involve.

What may of most importance is the individual Protagonist, Genre listing.

This is the gauge of how old the protagonist in the individual story is. Accordingly, this also works as a suggestion of the target audience for that same story - Child, Youth, Teen, Adult, or other. The genre is primarily that of the given volume, but a Science Fiction story might also be a Mystery or a Horror as sub-genre.

The genre listing is an important part of the story make-up.

This collection is presented and designed to appeal to a wide audience. I entreat you to explore and enjoy. I look forward to feedback. Let me know what think. There are some interesting anecdotes about the stories included before the stories begin. I’ve added these because in more cases, I feel they enrich the story.

To the reading.

Science Fiction

Volume One

Tag                            Teen, Science Fiction                 3035 Words

The Bullet                  Adult, Science Fiction                 5003 Words

Northern Ice              Adult, Science Fiction               19437 Words

Animals                     Adult, Horror/Adventure              5379 Words

Too Much Calcium   Adult, Science Fiction                3033 Words

Missing                     Teen, Horror/Fantasy                 6715 Words

Following Orders      Adult, Fantasy                             3968 Words

Sport                          Young Adult, Science Fiction    8850 Words

Smog                         Adult, Science Fiction                9182 Words

Pure Iconic Irony       Adult, Fantastical Historical       9447 Words

Edgrin’s Pearl          Adult, Science Fiction                 2046 Words

Anecdotal:

An easy, predictable plot appeals to some people, and all the power to them if that’s what makes them happy. There are those who find the easy, predictable plots too simple. They’re always wondering what smaller stories within that plot we haven’t heard yet. Did the door really get blown in, or was there something more going on? These latter readers thrive on expanding their minds into greater dimensions considering the easy plots as merely part of something no one could ever truly comprehend, but they try. Because that discovery and exploration of possibilities is what makes life worth living.

What if this could happen? Imagine if that were true? The consequences boggle the mind. I am one of those latter people. I love fantasy stories as they pertain to the medieval, definitely, but I have a great admiration for Science Fiction as well. As I see it, Science Fiction and Fantasy complete each other. Science Fiction explains the Fantasy, and Fantasy pushes Science Fiction’s boundaries with pure wonder.

There’s no limit to where the mind might go.

There’s no end to the places it can take you. There’s magic in that.

With this volume of collected stories, Science Fiction as the title notes, I gathered my more favourite stories. They play on some old themes unfortunately, but it’s hard to find a science fiction plot someone hasn’t written a story about or made a movie around already. I try in each case to make my own mark in how that theme is presented and where it ultimately goes. That’s a challenge in itself in some ways.

Two of the stories in this selection were written for school. In each case, Tag and The Bullet were critiqued as needing an ending. In each story, there is a set of characters, plot, and general plot ending, but each story is left open at the end for the reader to interpret their own final moments. I like that thought, and I generally always mentally rewrite other people’s stories when I read them. Why limit every story to just what you think should ultimately happen? Why not allow the reader some level of creative control? Anyway, for those stories, I left the endings a little open ended, yet pretty much complete.

Some thoughts of each of the above.

Tag was originally designed to be a spiralling story. How to explain without giving away the plot at this point? Hm. The protagonists are trying to escape a digital world trap. I’ll leave the details to the story itself. The point is that when they’d gotten out from their given trap, they discovered their escaped world was just an added illusion, so they escaped that one, and so on ever finding each new world: a lower down version of the same trap ever spiralling down to their electronic nemesis’ code base. That became too long and repetitive a story, so I made it more linear and gave the story a more conclusive end though it does still leave that exact end undecided like I mentioned previous.

The Bullet was actually inspired by a silver bullet I found one day walking home. It was a bullet from a belt you can buy in any store, not a real one by any means, but it got me thinking about silver bullets and who might collect them. And why he’d collect them. The story grew from there with a definite action plot and an underlying love story.

This story provides a certain Nemesis and aggressor against Canadian soil. In these political times, I should present the fact that I chose the States as aggressors simply because they worked best in that role. Being our neighbours, they have the best opportunity to do just that, and it worked in the story especially when the wall gets built. Anyway, it’s a calculated plot element, not a political statement. There, it’s said.

Northern Ice is a continuation of The Bullet; only, it takes you forward twenty years. It’s a different world now. There’s been a war. There’s been a peace, and now after a long time of nothing, there’s something happening again. A small group is coming north. Why? What are they up to? This story shows you where the protagonists from the first story are now and introduce the new, younger generation. It also answers the original question of what and who was really behind the original mutagenic attack on Canada in the first place.

I think the most interesting part in writing Northern Ice is that I was using characters who were in command positions but not the highest up, so there are a lot of things they aren’t being told, and they’re working on limited intel, so presenting the reader with a definitive answer was sometimes quite difficult, and some questions are still left to supposition as the story ends. The characters simply don’t know it all. Creating that realistic story balance and supplying the reader with enough clear information to stay interested and reading on wasn’t the easiest of tasks.

This limited intel bit works in another way: it keeps the story about two parents who are doing what they can as best they know it to save their son. The story remains about their love and personal choices even in the face of blatant unknowns, and this story, like its predecessor, is about the main protagonists, not the political world in which they now find themselves.

I feel the need to mention that Northern Ice was written two years, maybe even three years after The Bullet, so there is reintroduction. The general feel of the continuation is different as well. As the stories are now one right after the other, you might end up shaking your head wondering why I reintroduce some story elements, and the mood shift from one story to the next may feel odd from the slight change of pace.

Animals presents a world where genetics and generations of grooming meet stubborn free will, the lust for knowledge, and the drive to survive. Not all stories end happily. Not all endings make perfect sense. Consider real life. There are always endings. It’s more what you make of them that really counts.

Too Much Calcium was written for fun. I wasn’t really trying to challenge myself with this story. It’s just a fun jaunt into a science fiction world. And I’ve always liked the thought of having my own wings.

Missing is one of my attempts at horror. I don’t go for gore. I’ve always found it boring to read and way too much work to describe. My aim and challenge with Missing was whether or not I could successfully write a psychological horror.

Following Orders plays on some old themes: corporate command, world exploration, and the right of gathered test subjects. It also works around space exploration in general. My aim with this story was to see if I could give a new perspective to the old.

Sport was written on the pretence of what would the world be like if sports were taken to the extreme and given way too much weight. Wait, aren’t we there already? Sorry, personal opinion crept in there. This story’s sport is somewhat rough in its play. Sport gave me a chance to throw in some Canadian flavour and an interesting plot twist that I’m hoping you, the reader, won’t see coming until the end.

Smog is written in a different format than some other stories. Instead of slowly developing back story, a lot of detail is dropped at the beginning. It makes a ‘heavier’ plot, but I think it works okay just the same. The only way to know if you can carry a story written in this fashion is to try, right?

I was looking for a story plot and speaking with a customer on cash one night, and I saw a brochure that caught my eye. It involved taking care of our planet and recycling to some extent. I can’t remember the details. It was a long night, and I started joking that it would be funny if it turned out our pollution was the only thing that saved us at some point in the future. Wouldn’t it be ironic if we’re fighting to stop what might someday be our saviour? She probably figured I was a little strange.

Anyway, such a thing would be Pure Iconic Irony. I love the Earth. Don’t get me wrong. The customer seriously didn’t look impressed. I apologized and smiled politely, and she left with whatever it was she was buying. Returning home that night, I decided I’d write a story about an alternate future where our world is saved, not condemned by our growing pollution.

Edgrin’s Pearl is a nice, light, romantic story with a pair of middle-aged protagonists. There was no real plan for this story. Maybe a water planet? Planet crafters somehow? The ideas started coming, and dialogue took over. I basically just started writing and let the plot go where it wanted.

 

(3035 words – last count)

Francis rubbed his temples in a wide, practised arc and swore whole heartedly. He started walking with more determined steps and spoke softly to himself as he made his way through the crowd. Most of the people wore business suits or long skirts, maybe a fancy sports jacket. There were only a few of them dressed like him in white sneakers, basketball shorts, sports jersey, and backwards cap, and those few were grinding a nearby guard rail and jumping bikes over an old, tin can.

Too small, he grumbled. Too much hair. Not enough hair. Like he’d ever give it to you. Way too old, but …

Francis paused to watch the lady for a moment from across the street.

His red and white jersey waved slightly with the breeze. He shook his head at first, but then again, he had to try. He’d already spent most of the day shadowing a roller blader who smelled like he hadn’t showered in days, a homeless person who needed a change of pants, and several other people who’d varied not only in ages, but in races and interests. Francis would never forget the old man who he’d found at the diner. His breath was as pickled as could be, and he kept passing gas. He’d showed the right signs, so it might have been him. He’d had to try then too.

He’d been wrong.

Francis crossed Kingsway towards the old lady. He almost jumped out of the way as the car came close; then, he remembered the way things worked in this world, and he just kept going. The car drove through him like he was air. It felt weird to be passed through, and he still hadn’t gotten used to it, so when he got to the sidewalk on the other side, he checked himself out to make sure he was all there. Taking a deep breath, everything where it was supposed to be, he continued on.

Francis moved up beside the lady and sniffed her hair. It could be her, but it could be the old, brown shawl and antique, brimmed hat she wore giving off that smell. It might even be the more antique perfume; still, there was something familiar.

He checked her eyes. It was a good thing she was walking slowly. The eyes were dark, and silver specks seemed to be floating in their depths, but he’d seen that before, and it had only been a joke then.

A trick he’d set for them.

If Francis chose wrong, she’d die like that man in the diner and not be reborn. If he was right, him and his friends would live. It was a hard choice, but after nine leaps, six of them retries, as much as Francis hated admitting it, he was starting to not care anymore. Francis just wanted to be free. He stepped around her and shook his head resigned. He then reached his hand into the back of her head.

___ __ ___

Lacy peered down from her perch atop the fountain. They all looked so innocent. She couldn’t believe one of them could set them free. She also couldn’t believe that same person could just as easily kill them again and condemn them to an infinite life in his maze, an eternity as pawns in a game he didn’t want to lose. He was the one making the rules now, wasn’t he?

She felt hatred for the power those people held over her. She also felt sadness for the position the people had been dropped into. So innocent but so maddening. She felt like screaming though no one would hear her. She was a ghost in her own city unless, of course, they could find the way out. Unless they could find that one person.

Lacy climbed down and waded into the crowd. She glanced back up at where she’d been perched for the last half-hour. The fountain was old with gargoyles on each of the eight corners. An odd attraction for a kiddie park. But a fitting image. Who was the monster anymore? He made the rules, but they stalked.

They killed.

She frowned and shook her head, then turning her thoughts outwards again.

People passed through her heading off on their daily business. Their blacks and blues showed up well against her white hoodie and beige pants. Singles and families could be seen here and there. None of them smelled right. The person wasn’t here.

Hurrying towards the trolley that passed on its way downtown, Lacy jumped on board and checked out the passengers while they read their papers and talked on their phones. Though she wasn’t really of this world, not this version at least, she could interact with it when necessary. Like for hitching rides.

It had taken her a while to get the hang of not falling right through the busses, trolley, and trains. It was a matter of mind, a matter of thinking solid. She couldn’t have explained it to another person. It just worked for her. One man kind of smelled right, but his odour was still muskier than it should have been, so she moved on. Satisfied it wasn’t any of the people on the trolley, she jumped out the other side and started checking around for another park or store.

Lacy decided on the mini-mall to her right. The Subway was pretty dead. She crossed over the flower boxes that kept the sidewalk from the outdoor food court, then, wandered through the people checking out the ones she closer up.

Something else that wasn’t fair was being given an entire city to search for one person.

At least she wasn’t alone. At least there were the three of them, not that Matt was much help, but Francis was cool. She knew he’d be searching. She imagined Matt sitting by a bridge randomly selecting one or two people an hour to test. He didn’t care about the consequences. Part of her was starting to agree with him, but there was the Red Herring.

They had to make sure to not pick and test the wrong person.

Lacy paused to check out a little girl that had stopped to patiently tie her shoes. She had the eyes, and she almost smelled right, but the odour was too rich. Lacy considered testing the child anyway, but she couldn’t. What if she was wrong? Lacy wasn’t ready to risk the girl’s life on a near-desperate selection. She’d already picked enough wrong people in the last few leaps. Though she was starting to care less about the fate of the people they came across, she did still care enough to make sure she had good reason to test each time.

___ __ ___

Matt took his shirt off and kicked his runners to a side. Even if the world was an electronic illusion, it was a warm, sunny one. He leaned back and closed his eyes. In his mind, he was in the lab. It was all being explained to them, and he could see Lacy and Francis smiling at each other and eagerly asking questions. Sam had been more subdued. His questions had been more suspicious in nature. At the time, Matt had thought his friend was just being paranoid, but sitting by that bridge as he was now, Matt praised Sam’s wisdom, and he mourned his loss.

What do you mean when you say that we will only have a few hours to find the right person? Sam had asked. What’s going to happen if we can’t?

Lacy had shaken her head. Come on, Sam. It’s a game.

I know the program is a game, but my mind is going to be hooked up to a machine, and making sure my mind isn’t going to get eaten up in some programmed cut-scene or algorithm is something that’s important to me. I take that seriously.

Your mind is safe, and it’s a valid question, the program technician, a tall man in a long, blue lab coat had replied with a patient smile. We had some bugs with early versions, but this software is now perfectly safe. TOM, Theoretical Operations Mentor, or TOM for short, is not allowed to affect your higher functions. He is only going to be tied into your lower functions of taste, smell, and feel. That way, when you’re in the game, you will be able to taste and touch the food and feel the wind. You’ll even be able to smell the flowers.

Matt had spoken up at that point. And how do we find this person we’re looking for?

That is simple. Well, the means is simple. You’re going to have a lot of people to choose from. That part will be tough. The person will be drawn to the closest of you during play to counter that irritation, not that there’s any exact way of know which one of you will cross that person’s path. You’ll all still have to be paying close attention to detail. As for that, identifying them will be easy. Simply check for the smell of gym shoes.

Francis had looked at Matt at this point sourly shaking his head. Matt didn’t know why he’d suggested gym shoes. He just had, and the lab technician had gone along with it, so it wasn’t like it was all his fault, was it?

You can also identify the person by specks in their eyes and the way they walk, the technician had continued evenly. Their design will be more programmed, so their gait will be stiffer, more robotic in a sense.

I don’t know, Sam had sighed. What if the game doesn’t want to let us out?

Francis’ turn. What are you talking about Sam? The game will let us out when we find the person who smells like gym shoes. It has to. That’s what it’s programmed to do.

Sam had waved his hands to make sure he had everyone’s attention. He’d then taken the time to form his words just right. You don’t get it. This program is the same one that’s tied into all the headsets people wear. The same ones we wear to classes, and I know you’ve all had the same problems I’ve had with those headsets. The program won’t let you out until you’ve finished the conversation or work set or read the whole message someone sent you. It gets you stuck on one thing and won’t let you out until it’s ready for you to quit.

I assure you Mr. Rend. This system only runs parallel the one you’re referring to. They’re not connected.

"I don’t believe you. I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you. This program, TOM, could choose to keep us in the game. I read the brochure. If we don’t find the person, we restart, right? We retry. What if we find the