science fiction
The bridge between imagination and technological advancement, where the dreamer’s vision predicts change, and foreshadows a futuristic reality. Science fiction has the ability to become “science reality”.
Brutalist Stories #45
I can’t remember how many times I’ve killed Helena, a dozen, a thousand? Does it really matter once you go past the first one? That first killing, the first time you take someone’s life, you must cope with what you’ve done forever. You have to look down at your hands and say to yourself, "These are the hands that murdered her. These are the hands that took her life."
By Brutalist Stories8 years ago in Futurism
Review of 'Philip K. Dick's Electric Dreams' 1.3 Human Is
Humans in outer space has been adapted to the screen less frequently than other themes of Philip K. Dick. But his work in that area is equally brilliant and sometimes better than his better-known themes - I've thought that ever since I read his "Beyond Lies the Wub" first published in 1952 - and in the case of Bladerunner ("Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep"), the two motifs (outer space and robots) are in effect combined.
By Paul Levinson8 years ago in Futurism
Review of 'Philip K. Dick's Electric Dreams' 1.2 Autofac
In Autofac, we have Dick addressing his perennial what's real and what's fantasy, dream, alternate whatever conundrum in a form likely best known these days, and for better than three decades: which one is more human, the android (robot) or the humans who made it/her/him? This is the theme of Bladerunner, original movie and recent sequel, based on Dick's novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? - two words of which are part of the title of this 2018 streaming series.
By Paul Levinson8 years ago in Futurism
Hellfire
Love your ego, you won't feel a thing. Always number one. Darkness flooded the ground, eating away at every inch of light, stealing away the soft sunshine that played upon the sun-kissed skin of those below. Those still forced to inhabit the soft green planet of Origin.
By Emily Schwartz8 years ago in Futurism
Lone Wolf: The Hunt
A convoy of troop transports arrived at the edge of the forest just a few miles outside Atlas City. Dozens of armed troops poured out from the back with officers barking orders. Those already out began entering the forest in groups, each one lead by an officer. A total of five groups of eight men per group entered the forest. As they slowly trudged through, looking at their surroundings carefully, one officer removed a small portable screen and activated it.
By Michael Hawkins8 years ago in Futurism
Brutalist Stories #44
The carriage of the subway rattles along as I hold onto the steel bar and the hologram projected onto my retina beams with a gigantic smile. “Fantastic new possibilities await you in the Realm! Sign up now and receive a live test experience in your stream, free of charge and without obligation!” That obnoxious smile, wide and sparkling, trying to convince me to take up the call like so many others have.
By Brutalist Stories8 years ago in Futurism
Outrun Stories #44
Reckless, that’s what they called him along with countless other adjectives that will probably be best if I left unmentioned. Reckless was always the one that stood out though, that was the one that made my stomach turn and my jaw clench, it was the one that really beamed like a big bright neon sign when I drew him as a partner.
By Outrun Stories8 years ago in Futurism
I'm Not Hungry
I saw a vague slender frame behind my distorted door window, accompanied by an androgynous glass encased murmur. I could make out a neatly organised slab of light brown hair through the blurred window, there’s only one person I know with that hair, and he’s me. I tried to ignore the knocking but it got firmer and the murmurs became gradually seasoned with panic, I had to open the door at that point. I recognised everything about the person in front of me; the same medium-length stubble, occasionally highlighted by traces of sliver, same aforementioned slab of hair perpetually brushed aggressively to the right, same elongated nose-bridge punctuated by a downward facing circular tipped nose. I would say it was like looking into a mirror but it wasn’t – you’re used to seeing what’s in a mirror, this person’s face was more slender than I see mine, with a faint touch of tanning. Maybe it’s how I look and that everyone’s just so accustomed to these details the mind doesn’t register them anymore. This might be why we look different on photos. His pupils were almost the size of magnified olives. I’ve been told my eyes were big before. I’d never previously met a robot clone of myself and never spent any time pondering what I’d say to one if I did. Well that’s a lie, there was that one time I thought about it. Alright, it was two times. Ok, ok, it was quite a few times.
By Conor Hufton8 years ago in Futurism
Evil Horizon (Part 4)
The forest was alive with life. The early morning sun had began its slow climb over the valley. The local area and crash site of the Pinto consisted of what was still known as pine trees. The sap from these massive trees had a very strong but pleasant scent. They had been merged with the DNA of redwood trees; which made them at the base easily 20-30 feet wide.
By Remidy James8 years ago in Futurism
The Onset of the Contest
The original game of professional major league football in the United States ceased to be decades ago. Cases of players being diagnosed with traumatic brain injuries and other maladies caused players, team owners, and the commissioner to ban the sport altogether. Days of pain and suffering vanished with a few taps of a tablet and a signature on the line which was dotted. And it took a few more years for a revolutionary league to take its place. The Columbia Football Association instituted a way for football supporters to enjoy the sport without the added earned guilt of knowing that a human player could be injured severely on the field or succumb to an illness related to the game years after retirement. The CFA took care to see that the game of football be played where humans didn’t have to fret about a torn anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) or meniscus. On this December evening, the flag waved and the band played and the robots stood at the position of attention. Around the ballpark, everyone with a hat or cover removed it out of respect for Old Glory. Silence existed except for the voice of a robotic opera singer singing “The Star Spangled Banner.” Once the part of the song got to “land of the free,” a triumphant roar rolled over the crowd. With a last note of pure perfection in tone, timbre, and range, the robot ceased her song and the game became set in motion. The Diamanté Bank ballpark in Wilmington served as the hometown setting where the Delaware Mint hosted the Philadelphia Turkeys. Each team prepared for the game with their human overlords programming their computer systems. Down to the weight, height, throwing technique, running speed, all received exact calculations from the engineers on the sidelines. Each tweak of the players’ bodies and “minds” became clear with the onset of the contest. By beginning with making sure that their circuitry and other mechanisms operated to the highest level, the engineers knew that they could send out their androids to the field with confidence. Assistants greased joints and rotated mechanical parts to make sure that they remained in prime position. Engineers put the last touches of code into the software of the androids. At the coin toss, the Turkeys called the coin toss to be heads. It was heads. They elected to receive the ball. At the onset of the contest the viciousness of it all showed through.
By Skyler Saunders8 years ago in Futurism
