SCI-FI #6: Lockdown Science Fiction Adventures: Lockdown, #26

By Dean Kershaw

Science Fiction adventure stories.

 

An Alphabetical Pseudo-Guide to Post-Apocalyptic Earth by Martin Lochman

Blood Moon by McKenzie Richardson

Do Not Emulate by John McLaughlin

Even the Least May Sing by James Rumpel

Exotic Treats, Exotic Meats by Pete Aldin

No Choice by D.J. Elton

Numerous Applications by Gabriella Balcom

Robots for Ronnie by Beth W. Patterson

Sinlight Rising by Kimberly Rei

SmartHome by Jasiah Witkofsky

Test Subject P7441-1 by D.M. Burdett

The New Exhibit  by Andrew Kurtz

Time Academy by Toshiya Okamoto

• Language: English
• Publisher: Black Hare Press
• Release date: Apr 25, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224167906

Book preview

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

AN ALPHABETICAL PSEUDO-GUIDE TO

POST-APOCALYPTIC EARTH by Martin Lochman

NO CHOICE by D.J. Ellton

EXOTIC TREATS, EXOTIC MEATS by Pete Aldin

DO NOT EMULATE by John McLaughlin

SMARTHOME by Jasiah Witkofsky

TIME ACADEMY by Toshiya Okamoto

SINLIGHT RISING by Kimberly Rei

EVEN THE LEAST MAY SING by James Rumpel

NUMEROUS APPLICATIONS by Gabriella Balcom

TEST SUBJECT P7441-2 by D.M. Burdett

BLOOD MOON by McKenzie  Richardson

THE NEW EXHIBIT by Andrew Kurtz

ROBOTS FOR RONNIE by Beth W. Patterson

ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

AN ALPHABETICAL PSEUDO-GUIDE TO POST-APOCALYPTIC EARTH

by Martin Lochman

A

nti-radiation medicine

It’s almost a cliché come true that the end of the world should include the unwarranted use of nuclear weaponry and its inevitable long-term consequences. Sure, you might argue that from the moment the Greens first appeared in Earth’s orbit and knocked out the ISS together with the majority of satellites, it was only a matter of time before the hotheads in Washington, Moscow and Beijing resorted to trying their luck with Oppenheimer’s brainchild, but I, for one, had slightly more faith in those in power and their ability to make smart decisions.

I don’t, anymore. Seeing that monstrous mushroom cloud on the horizon—and another one somewhere behind it—will cure just about anyone of their naivety.

Anyway, the anti-radiation meds are a necessity, especially when you find yourself close to a landing site. Getting your hands on some today is a whole different story though, since the hospitals and pharmacies have been long cleaned out so thoroughly that you wouldn’t be able to find a damn band aid there. And if you do manage to stock up, by some miracle, it still doesn’t mean that you can waltz everywhere you please one hundred per cent worry-free. It doesn’t work like that, and I am sure that many people wished they had known that sooner.

Radiation poisoning is a nasty thing to watch unravel; it literally takes you apart, piece by piece, until there is nothing left but a withered shell of your former self. I’ll never forget the pain and suffering in the discoloured faces of those fortunate enough to have survived the explosion and unfortunate enough to have received a lethal dose of gamma rays. In the days following the strike on Bratislava, many of the poor souls from the surrounding areas fled in all directions, some across the border to Hungary, Austria and Czech Republic, some up north toward Trenčín and Žilina and the Slovak-Polish border, in hopes of escaping the uncompromising fate—yet ultimately, only a negligible fraction of them lived.

Several hundreds had made it all the way to Poprad, where Maria and I used to live. Maria worked as a nurse at the city hospital, so she was the first to witness the unrelenting after-effects of a nuclear detonation. The hospital was far from operational at that time, the majority of its staff having given up in the wake of the catastrophe, but she, along with some of her most dedicated colleagues, did their best to help the incoming masses. They even succeeded in recruiting a handful of volunteers to aid their efforts, myself included (I was an account manager for a certain international company specialising in house appliances, so it wasn’t like I had anything more important to do).

But it was difficult not to feel incapable or downright impotent, when there was nothing we could do for so many. They didn’t blame us, though, not even during their last days and their last hours. Not even when the agony was so great that they could barely draw a breath. Not even when they saw their loved ones take their last.

Electricity

Do you remember the day it went away? It was Sunday evening, and we were at home, watching the only channel that was still broadcasting (the Internet and most of the television and radio stations had been down since this whole mess started). The anchor was just reporting on the latest unsuccessful attack of the mighty US military on the ship sitting on top of New York when she got an alarming update: Russia had launched a handful of nukes, targeting several of the ships on the Eurasian continent. Whether this was done upon the agreement of the world leaders, or the powers that be in Moscow acted alone is anyone’s guess, but I have a strong suspicion that it was the latter.

In any case, Russia didn’t end up being the only country that dipped into its nuclear arsenal, and soon... Well, let’s just say that when the dust settled nothing worked anymore. Initially, there were speculations that it was because of the EMP from the explosions, but it quickly became clear that the Greens were to blame. They must have done something that rendered every single electronic system and device completely unusable.

And then they...left. We nuked them (failing to make a dent yet again), they switched off the lights (permanently), and were on their merry way (all at once, they got up and whizzed off, from what I’ve heard).

I bet you also had no idea how difficult life without power could be. Forget phones, computers, elevators, trains and cars; think running water and heating. Speaking of, I guess the