Categories
Fiction Short Stories

First Thought, Last Breath

So, I’m getting out of work. I walk toward Debbie. There is a loaf and a half stuffed precariously in between my left arm and torso. With a bag of small rolls in my left hand, and books in my right, I have my hands real full. I cautiously walk to Debbie.

I have her keys wrapped around my fingers and thumb. My old phone is in the palm of the same hand. This is my right hand, and I gently rotate the wrist. The key is stuck. I wiggle it. It won’t work.

Without much grace, and with some effort, I somehow get my books from underneath my right arm and place them on top of  Debbie. It’s a good thing there was no rain, because I forgot to close the sunroof again.

I flashback to that time covered with rain, where my lips touched hers. In one fluid act, our tongues mixed saliva with the rainwater that seeped into our mouths. It felt good.

I earned eight dollars in tips at work today. I put the cash in between the two ends of my beaten flip phone. Enough to buy a new pack of cigarettes and pay my friend back for buying me lunch earlier. A processed chicken square in the middle of two bleached buns -a staple product of  the high school cafeteria. It’s all I ate today. Which was some time before noon, and my remedy for the plastic taste was to drench the chicken square in hot sauce. Now, it is only a few minutes after ten.

So there, my aged flip phone is up there with my books and the money is securely stashed within. Once again I insert the key into Debbie -a broken memory of a future once taken for granted, but now permanently lost.

No. She is just a car. A sedan i inherited, yet I still had to pay for. I worked hard to acquire her, and I nearly depleted my bank account fixing her. I used to have a few thousand saved up, not anymore.

I finally enter Debbie. Swing the door open with my left hand. Lift my right leg and climb on into her. That’s what I like to feel.

I turn the music up. Take my pack out of the center console. Lucky is the only one left. So I check the mirror and put Lucky in my mouth. Insert it until the filter is halfway passed my lips.

The final time our lips touched. That was good. You never think it’s the last, although I asked her for one last kiss. It was probably our best, yet there were so many times that I don’t really remember all that well. We were both crying. Our tears slid down our cheeks. Dripped into our cavernous mouths.

Okay, check the mirror, I’m parked parallel. Turn the steering wheel all the way to the left and quickly jolt her back about halfway. Light Lucky, and I’m off.

The pedal is touching the floor. I don’t know. All I know is I want to get away. I’m not far down the street when I notice some pedestrians staring at me. I stop abruptly, and then pull into reverse a bit, then park in the middle of the street. I jump out of her.

The money is scattered all across the street, while my phone and books are flipped open in the middle of the road. The binding is ripped on one of them. The phone is still alive.

I can’t find all the money for a few seconds but then I do. Meanwhile, a lady in a black dress is staring at me. So I stand there for a good two and a half seconds while I take a drag of Lucky, and stare back at her.

Hop into my Debbie once more. Now there is a car behind me. They think I made an ass out of myself.

So I get out of there real fast. Nobody can drive her like me, and I’d be upset if they did. While turning right, I begin to notice a noise. Something rolling with the turn. There is a bowl in the backseat. I can see it in the corner of my eye.

It’s been rolling back and forth, like a pendulum in accordance to Debbie’s movements. The spoon is laid bare in the open. A foreign object, all alone. At times the bowl rolls over the solitary utensil, reminding it of where it longs to be, but never letting it achieve former happiness. I take a long drag of Lucky, and I drive.

I’m exhausted. Another day of school and work. I can’t wait to collapse onto my bed and dream. Never wanting dawn to come.

I run up stairs and into my room, falling so gracefully. It’s only fifteen minutes after ten, I don’t care.

I just want to dream, so I start off with fantasies, and then let it all drift. I can never tell when I switch between states of being. I can only tell when I am fully immersed, since it’s all too good to be true, and yet I trick myself every time.

I know this now, because instead of haunting me like it did during daylight, the bowl is reunited with the spoon. The utensil is in my hand, while my fingers force it to twirl the broth in her.

I look up and stare into her eyes. Those sunflowers resting against the azure sky. I don’t ever want it to go away. It is only my mind, sitting in this ambiguous, empty setting with her.

That doesn’t really matter. Nothing else matters at this exact moment. This moment that barely exists. This fleeting, arbitrary space, a cafe’ perhaps, but one I’ve certainly never been to in my actual existence.

It’s so empty.

This is how I’m asserting my values. This is the meaning of my existence currently: something I had once taken for granted, and now can only dream about.

Dawn is here, and so I wake up, and start it all over again.

Categories
Sol

Sol, Chapter 6: Awaken Into Another Time and Place

Welcome Daniel, you are in The Asteroid Belt, what a literal, simplistic name isn’t it… we are located within one of many scattered waypoints tucked inside these hollow floating rocks. The exteriors of each asteroid are as diverse as the inhabitants within. Some of the rocks are quite unassuming, but others seem as if they were constructed by something other than the workings of time and gravity, as if the vessels were created by beings that came before humans.

Many of the people living in this mysterious section of Sol are humans with cybernetic implants (or full DNA reconstruction) so that they would seem unrecognizable to new visitors as actual descendants of Earth, when in fact they’ve most likely been raised on humanity’s home planet or atmosphere themselves. 

The abundance of fragmented rocks in the vicinity of each waypoint is comparable to the multitude of factions within hierarchical guilds owing loose alliances to one another. These guilds operate independently of any Inner Sol government and are designated as pirate and or terrorist organizations by said institutions. However, the EDF [accounting for Earth sub-system in addition to the Mars sub-system] and remaining Corporation Colonies [which include the barely populated prison colony on Mercury and the once opulent floating cities of Venus] have technically ceded the rest of the system to exploration and development by us ragtag group of humans, pirates, cyborgs, half-human, holobeings, and what have you. Of course, the untrustworthy Inner Sol governments have rescinded on countless obligations to refrain from harassing free people within and without the belt that we call our home. That is why the asteroid waypoints are fortified in such a manner as you now see. These guilds are necessary in order to ensure inner stability in frontier space. The Factions protect individuals from the mischievous Corp mercenaries and EDF freelancers that blend in so well in our open communities.

Tichokiri, (aka Tiko) is my holobeing identity, I am one of many that protects the mid-system verse from EDF hackers and other intruders which mean to destroy the recently established freedom of Mid, and Outer Sol. You have been cryogenized for two and a half years, much has happened since you lost consciousness. The EDF was previously comprised of corporate-controlled nation states until the Western Capitalists destroyed Earth’s environment, leaving the megacities desolate and filled with formerly human cannibals, not to mention countless machine drones. No one knows exactly what happened, but there was war on Earth …a massive ordeal that could never be fully understood. The drug induced cannibals were eviscerated somehow, and the machines lay in ruins. The free people that lived underneath the megacities were taken by the mysterious fighters that had freed them to the Jovian moons. There the survivors coud live out the rest of their days in peace. The Collectivists, which is what these mutated humans are called now, prefer not to have contact with anyone else.

Some say the dark energy the space commune warriors used was harnessed by dormant sentient life deep beneath Earth. Not much else is known besides that which I have explained to you. 

What was once known as China was the only nation-state populated enough to reconstruct society on Earth, and life for humans there is not as horrendous anymore. The only problem those humans face is a lack of freedom, yet they do not understand because the information is not there for them to compare their lives to anything else. Standard of living on Earth is now what it once was in the late 20th century, there is still much poverty, but at least the ruthless corporations have been contained. 

Luna is now New Han, which is what the Chinese-dominated EDF prefers to call themselves: The Han, Protectors of Humanity. They are self-righteous fools in reality, they refuse to acknowledge that the blue-lipped warriors cleansed Earth and left the rotting planet for easy taking. Once the newly reorganized EDF took Luna and Mars, Chinese influence over Inner Sol was cemented, although sporadic fighting between Neo-Christian guerrillas and Han mercenaries persists on Luna-

ERROR

TICHOKIRI is currently unavailable.

Please remain calm in your cryogenic chamber until further notice…

Categories
Sol

Sol, Chapter 5: Inner Sol Archives 2242 C.E. Rand’s Personal Log

My unbearable once, but now disappearing headache makes me think it is time to start anew. I was trying to unload a lectern from a pulpit where the sanctified nothing was held for none of the colonists to see or think about but only transfix their eyes upon and hope. The key was that something in their minds would hear imaginary words which apparently transform into an ethereal substance that holds ideas passed on for generations. It is in reality meaningless and out of context from their everyday dreadful experience. The ideology becomes all the more irrelevant as time keeps on passing, and in the end many of the colonists are killed by reckless machines or just as often kill themselves.

My so called brethren and I have been instructed to destroy the Neo-Christian temples on the dark side of Luna. The rewards that we were supposed to reap have not been just. They ration out treasure like fools. The queer anarchist piece-of-shit squad leader, Turing, betrayed my better experience.

“Fuck this community, I have the ability to strike out on my own, and I’m only one of two who know the piloting codes for the cruiser- so my escape will be easy” I thought.

So I decided to say something about my pride for a second time on this short-lived mission, while out on the surface above one of the rare older temples.

“It is over, I’m done. Turing you wretched filth of a being, I deserve-”

“If you discuss this unnecessary topic one more time you will be stunned and detained. I have no patience for your petty quibbling over material goods.”

At that point I was trembling with anger.

“You know how easy it is to just flip a switch, for me at least, in a figurative sort of way, so that I just snap and unleash my exoskeleton?”

“Well, certain chemicals determine violence, but for you only the weaker ones, yet the variables are complicated and include genetic as well as environmental factors, so you may have strength one day recruit.”

There was ringing in my ears, I couldn’t distinguish his high-pitched voice from it. I needed to end the unbearable sound.

“I will kill you and not think anything of it,” I said.

He thought I was playing, that was his mistake.

“The standard system of thought with you new ones is now to not think anything of anything beside the self.”

If only I could have given him the gift of leaving this existence with such wise words. I couldn’t bear it any longer, just like the scum I thought they were, the other members of the squad wavered their eyes from direct contact with me and yet had the courage to laugh.

I am no counter-revolutionary, yet I had been led to believe otherwise about these Insurgent expeditions, and my ability proves that I deserve better. I had thought the opportunity in marauding Helium 3 farms was abundant in profit, and I was terribly wrong.

I should have caught a ferry to Phobos and signed up with Brazilian pirates, not these fanatical egalitarians. They care nothing for the right to personal improvement and ranking advancement. I had realized from the exchange how underestimated I am, so that it would be fairly possible to sabotage Turing’s next mission and eliminate the entire squad. If I were to accomplish this, I would finally earn my next non-organic transformation. Independence is coveted. Goals must be completed orderly. I will regain my position in The Corp and then some.

Categories
Sol

Sol, Chapter 4: No Compassion for the Non-Organic

Daniel was never done with Diamond. He feigned pleasure from the machine. He would have been sacrificed. That would have been the message sent. Daniel knew he could not live in that roughly angled colony on the barren mare of Luna. What stood before him not far off from the structure he had stayed at his entire life was the towering ten story tall solid mass of metal with gigantic retractable cylindrical vacuum -tubes which stood looming in the otherwise blank horizon.

The industrial complex incorporated within Daniel’s familial colony served no other purpose but to gather dust and rock containing precious Helium 3 deposits. The Corp invented an off-world approach at making themselves appear to be resolving the fossil fuel crisis during the mid-21st century when the zealots desired nuclear apocalypse over equality. That was when the evangelicals attempted their coup and made an alliance with the corporations in order to lay waste to many independent free-people communities across Earth.

What became known as The Corp had planned to develop a cheaper energy source than using Helium 3 in a nuclear fusion process. The result of their experimentation was of lesser quality, yet they named it The Clean Matter Fuel. It was a so-called revolution in technology, for the inhabitants of the home world knew no better. In reality it was a scam source of power created by faces behind a name which championed oligarchical governance and only yearned for more profits in their trans-human quest for immortality.

After the era of confusion the free people were pushed underground by the corporations which were quickly molding into the singular “being” of a monopoly which would give them more control. Snippets of this scattered information of history blipped in Daniel’s brain. He saved the thoughts for pondering at a later time. He would not know fully until his trip to Titan, but at that point he never even thought he would make it off the Lunar surface. Those men that craved power heavily influenced Daniel’s thought process. The overwhelming stain of guilt rendered any attempts at justifying a new mindset futile for the young derelict.

Daniel had stolen an exo-suit from the docking bay while he was supposed to be manning the security center. Diamond was dragged through the gray waste for a few kilometers until Daniel had the courage to finally vaporize his doubtful thoughts. The only way to accomplish such a difficult psychological feat was to physically obliterate the symbol of dominance that lay before him. Or was she, it… was it a representation of weakness? Was he actually fulfilling what they wanted him to carry out? He thought that they may have wanted him to experience the ultimate act of authority.

No, the boy’s eyes saw through glass and metal. He analyzed what he had seen and felt in the last few cycles. His disillusionment had slipped away. The crumpled heap of machine within machine destroyed multiple targets in his mind. The vacuum ate Diamond and all the tortuous webs of thoughts that came with it.

Categories
False Prophet

False Prophet, Chapter 0: False Thoughts

Grasping the existence of individuals. Irony in ultimately ending one’s own life. One must only know with compassion in order to defend one’s own species. Words write themselves on a page inexplicably- “Justify the worth of your brethren, or they will be disintegrated.”

Represent an arbitrary experience in human history. A schizo hears judgement. One is given words from unknown beings. Answer these aliens. Spend hours justifying. Do not justify human existence on a whole, but through each individual experience. That is where the falseness sets in, where discouragement lingers. The only egalitarians now are no one. Do not reference abstract mimes or disciples, but read between the circles.

Little future boy will be raped by nothing in particular. One roots out the molten sap in skeletal remains. Two beings shoving tongues down each others throats and no end is in sight. A doll riding a man. Bearded skulls flickering while people don’t take death seriously. Repetitive dreams opening up with the smoke rising sideways. Lips start moving while extinction is looming.