In a moment of clarity and inspiration, the second archivist suggested the following plan: track the social trends in our city; map them, finding the inevitable patterns; figure out the dependent and independent variables; create a mapping; and finally, inconspicuously, design public policy to tap into exactly those inputs, in just the right amounts. Prod the organism. Domesticate the animal. Soon, the stochastic trends would form into strands, then chains of strands, then threads. With time, the sum total of human knowledge be kept in the predictable social patterns of our race.
The day after tomorrow, this will all be over. End of the world according to the Mayan predictions. It didn't seem worth sending out any Christmas cards this year and I also avoided presents. Saved all the money and had a holiday of a lifetime instead. I'm back home doing a countdown until the fateful moment. All my life I had been super organised, financially, personally, the household run like clockwork.
This year I gave it all up. Seemed pointless. Clutter and dust fill every room. Expenses unwritten, bills unpaid, I mean why bother if EVERYONE is going to die....
She'd have preferred the electric chair, but he wouldn't have it. "Think about how much easier it would be on everyone hon," Sarah said as she stared down at her son, sitting in his black Quickie wheelchair. "You wouldn't have to roll yourself so much and your father and I wouldn't have to help you up those steep hills if you had this chair."
Mark stared at the other wheelchair, with its electric motor, and grimaced. "Ma, I'm already lazy as it is," he told her bluntly. "If I don't roll myself my arms will atrophy as much as my...
Josh ground his teeth in frustration. The other kids on the playground were really getting to be a nuisance.
He'd heard all of their excuses as to why his team always won the soccer games. He'd been held back a year, he was bigger and stronger, he'd been to some special training camp, he was a mutant, etc. They kept making excuses, saying that he wasn't playing fair, that he fouled, and so forth, even though he was always careful not to. They just couldn't deal with the fact that he was better than them.
But now it was really...
The city buildings are below and the windows opening to the living rooms are windows into the soul of the city. The bookshelves, the home libraries, glow with the artifacts of their souls. I scan the horizon for those pulsars of literature, searching for life beyond the automatic.
The cross section of broken ice and grid perplexed the intrigued scientists.It seemed impossible that what the local had said was true yet fortunately they had listed and laid the glass and steel grid below their feet anyway. To a casual observer this planet seemed to be surfaced by solid ice but here it was, ineffable proof that there was someting beneath the ice, hollow chasms, ranging from a few to unknown depths, It seemed imposible but there it was places in the ice were hollow. and these great chasms had to house some seecret for there was an erie...
He could remember the first time he saw that statue. It was one of those things you simply never forgot, like a first kiss. He remembered the first time he saw that statue, smiling majestically down at him from its pedestal, Lady Liberty welcoming him to the country, letting his heart swell up with a strange, newfound pride. He supposed it was the moment he'd become American, even before the papers had been stamped and Ellis Island had given him and his father the okay. It was certainly the first moment he'd felt American.
He'd gripped the banister of the...
I was going to tell her the truth...honesty is always the best policy...right? But then I wasn't ready just yet. What would she think? How would she react? Would anything ever be the same?
"No. I can't tell her." I muttered quietly to myself. I hunched over another inch on my bar stool. I was alone although surrounded by patrons at the hotel called The Silent Sleeper's pub. The TV roared football overhead. I could hardley notice anything else in the room but the grain of the wood on the wooden bar counter in front of me, as I grew...
The floor lights illuminated her, a glowing angel against the grimy backdrop of the darkened stage. The crowd was quiet as she adjusted the microphone, lowering it from the previous performer. Her eyes opened wide, drinking in the dimly-lit crowd, her mouth parted and she began to sing.
My drink was halfway to my mouth when she released those first few notes and it stayed there, my arm unable to move. Her voice was hypnotizing, mesmerizing.
I floated up, her melody acting like a hook. I looked down and saw my body still sitting there, the glass still halfway between...
My feet ached, but it was well worth it. I stood in front of the house, my chest heaving with the effort of my panting. Oxygen could not come to me quickly enough, and yet, I kept sighing, wanting to prepare myself for this moment. I slowly walked up to the door, biting my lip. Should I knock? Should I wait for someone to show up? I looked around-- there was a car nearby. I hurriedly brushed the tears from my face and peeked inside the window. I couldn't see anyone inside. Perhaps now would be the best time. Right...