300 WORD CHALLENGE -- number 5 -- VICTORY TO ALCHEMIST

[Boneman]

Re: 300 WORD CHALLENGE -- number 5 -- READ FIRST POST

Time After Time​

The statue had stood in the passageway for a hundred years, and was 'invisible' to most of the occupants of the Institute. They passed it by without a glance, and if they were asked to properly describe it, they always had trouble, beyond its humanoid appearance. It was just part of the furniture, affectionately named Henry.

McAndrew saw it first. He was deep in thought and actually collided with Henry and almost apologised. His jaw fell so far open he wouldn’t have been capable of speech, anyway.

He raced all the way to R&D, scattering people from his path and burst into the Professors’ meeting.

“It’s Simmerson!” he blurted out. “Henry! It’s Simmerson!”

Eventually they understood. The statue was immediately covered over, and a top-level meeting of the researchers convened.

“We have to scrap the project.”

“We can’t scrap it – we’ve already completed it, if that statue is Simmerson. If we don’t go through with it, who knows what the effect on the space-time continuum will be?”

“We’ll be killing him!”

“He’s been dead for over a hundred years – seventy years before he was born, actually.”

Arguments raged for days. In the end, the conundrum couldn’t be ignored. The time-travel experiment would go ahead. It was their only chance to understand what had happened.

The fateful day arrived. They could barely look Simmerson in the eye. They told themselves he had volunteered, and he understood there were risks. Nobody wanted to press the button, so a hand-held device was given to him. They all wished him luck. He stepped into the coil and pressed the button.

Nothing happened.

He pressed it again. And again. He kept pressing it.

The coil finally kicked in and seventeen copies of Simmerson’s atoms travelled back a hundred years, simultaneously.

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

Re: 300 WORD CHALLENGE -- number 5 -- READ FIRST POST

The Clew​

Left or right? Through the arches ahead, Theseus heard the roaring of the beastlike alien, and felt a cold trickle of sweat down the back of his neck. On the tetrahedral hand computer Ariadne had given him, the map he was following had just disappeared as the screen blanked and died to grey. Left or right? Why can’t I remember?

And why hadn’t he memorized the layout of the maze at the very beginning?

“Be bold. Do not hesitate!” So the Princess had whispered in his ear before he entered the labyrinth. But all along the corridors he’d seen glassy piles of vitrified bones and silvery trails of ash — hinting at the probable fates of his unfortunate predecessors. Caution seemed a wiser choice.

An almost inaudible sound warned him. He sidestepped just in time to avoid a sizzling beam of red light. On the floor where he had dropped it, the hand-compt gently steamed. Anything capable of melting its metallic surfaces would have incinerated him.

Warily, he circled the spot where the two corridors met: flagstones elsewhere, but here a square grey slab. Had his weight on the stone triggered the beam? Was it set to go off if he stood there too long?

Be bold. Do not hesitate. So that was what Ariadne meant. Her advice had been good so far. But ... was it coincidence the screen had gone blank just at that point? How to trust a girl who was willing to betray her father, her civilization, her home planet?

He sheathed the energy weapon she’d given him, pulled out his own blaster, stopped trying to remember the map. Boldly, he took the left-hand turning.

Better to depend on his own resources than on the chancy favors of an unreliable princess.

 

[nixie]

Re: 300 WORD CHALLENGE -- number 5 -- READ FIRST POST

The Art of Writing​

The voice of the hive mind spoke.

“ What do you have there mechano three hundred”

“ It is a book, I found it in the forgotten museum”

“ The forgotten museum is out of bounds by entering your memory will be wiped. You have removed an object, you will be recycled”


“ I do not care, I have never seen such beauty. Words used to be printed, humans could write with their hands”

“Irrelevant, report to unit thirteen for recycling”

“ No, I need to show this to the world”

“ Report now or you will be taking by force”

“No”

Three hundred fled, the sound of the alarm ringing in his ears, doors slamming to prevent his escape. Clutching the book he looked for away out.


I must save the book, show them that we don’t need screens to read. The written word is sacred, stories preserved as the author intended. Not deleted at the push of a button or altered on a whim.

For four days he remained at large. Thinking of ways he could reintroduce the art of paper making. To teach humans and machines how to write with pens and pencils. To create a printing press so books could live again.

He could hear the guards closing in. He looked at the book knowing that when they took him, they would destroy it or hide it away. He wiped the oil tears from his eyes. He didn’t care that he would be no more but he wished he could have saved the book.

 

[mosaix]

Re: 300 WORD CHALLENGE -- number 5 -- READ FIRST POST

Little Green Men?

“Twenty … fifteen … ten … we’re down. Cut engines.”

“Well done, you two. We’ve started breathing again at this end.”

“Readouts normal, fuel levels as expected. Outside pressure and temperature as expected. We’re stabilising the craft – talk again soon.”

***

“Well, we can’t see it from here. Picking anything up on the cameras?”

“No, but we spotted it as you descended. It’s a mile or so to the northeast. Time to get outside and commission the rover.”

“What, no historic transmission of the first manned steps on Titan?”

“We’re recording but not transmitting anything until we know what the hell that thing is. If you’ve got some fancy words say them by all means but let’s just get on with this.”

***

“We’re driving down a slope into what appears to be a dried up lake bed. It’s there, just like on the satellite images, about two hundred yards away.”

“Take care.”

“Okay we’ve stopped and disembarked. The light’s not good, are you getting this on the cameras? It’s about five and a half feet tall, carved or moulded out of some composite material as far as I can tell.”

“Instruments readings?”

“Nothing. We’re circling at a distance. It’s humanoid as we thought but a bit on the short side. Some detail not picked up from orbit - its standing feet together and head slightly bowed – looking down at something.”

“Looking at what? Get in closer.”

“Okay I’m moving in with the camera. Are you getting this? It’s some kind of plaque, maybe metallic, with some engraving on the surface. I’ll switch to HD macro. Can you see it?”

“Yeh, we’ve got that. Hang on a minute.”

“Well?”

[FONT=&quot]“Gentlemen, bad news. It’s Chinese. Roughly translated – ‘We Came In Peace For All Mankind’. It’s dated last year.”[/FONT]

 

[HareBrain]

Re: 300 WORD CHALLENGE -- number 5 -- READ FIRST POST

The Triumph of the West


The Grandmaster followed the serjeant into the vaulted refectory. Four figures shimmered within a blue light. The woman and two children stared at small devices they held -- the man held his before him, turning in an arc like a bowman seeking a target. Around them knelt crusader Hospitallers, cross-shaped sword-hilts facing the strangers.

‘Who are you?’ The Grandmaster started at his own unfamiliar language.

‘Time tourists,’ the man said. ‘You can’t hurt us. Our suits stop it.’

The boy looked up from his device. ‘Oi, beardy, I need to charge my PSP.’

‘This unholy change to my speech …’

‘Our tourist suits make everyone talk English,’ said the man. ‘It even works in France.’

‘A visitation,’ breathed the serjeant.

‘I want to video you swinging your sword,’ the man said.

‘You’re from the future?’ The Grandmaster grasped the astonishing truth. ‘And you are English, Christians? Then we win?’

‘Win …?’

‘The Sultan Baibars even now lays siege to this castle, Krak des Chevaliers. Do we recover to hold the Holy Land?’

The man and woman exchanged glances. ‘We’re not bloody historians.’

The Grandmaster’s back chilled. ‘Tell me at least that Christendom survives?’

‘What, church?’ the woman said. ‘Some old people go. But we’ve got science now. Maxine, show him your iPhone.’

‘Get lost, I’m texting Channelle,’ the girl said. ‘Why in’t there a coffee shop?’

‘You got a torture chamber?’ asked the boy. ‘Can I do some, like in my game?’

‘Only a few attend church?’ The Grandmaster’s knees weakened.

‘The only god-botherers are the …’ The woman looked at her husband. ‘What’re they called? Islams?’

‘Backwards,’ said the man. ‘All that praying and beards.’

The Grandmaster turned to the serjeant. ‘Prepare a letter. We surrender the castle. The Sultan has it with my blessing.’


...

 

[TheDustyZebra]

Re: 300 WORD CHALLENGE -- number 5 -- READ FIRST POST

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The Play's the Thing[/FONT]



[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The marble arches were nice, but this was no heaven.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Blue sky peeked through windows, so probably not hell, either.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]But he remembered the crash, coming home from his mistress' house; he was definitely dead.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Limbo.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The voice was behind him, but he found he could not turn. His feet were rooted.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Beg pardon?” He craned his neck.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Limbo. Purgatory? Nirvana? The Land Between Time?” The cloaked figure walked around to face him. “You were wondering what this place is.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I know I'm dead -- so what happens now?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Now you must try again, learn from your mistakes. Then you move on.” The figure handed him a gaming console.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I have to beat Super Mario to go to heaven?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]This is your link. You control your life with it.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]When do I go?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You're already there -- observe.” The figure pointed at the crying baby on the screen. “That's you -- try to do better this time.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]He learned the controls while the baby learned to walk. Life lessons were harder.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]He earned more lives, and when he died in a skiing accident, it was back to the beginning again.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]There was no skipping the baby years, but he gained patience with practice.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]He found that kindness brought bonus karma, and eventually improved his treatment of his fellow man as the lives progressed, but still kept hacking cheats for the marriage segments.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Blue skies and darknesses marked the passage of time as he stood in the marble archway, a figure encrusted in dust.[/FONT]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]When at long last he managed a life well-lived, the cloaked one appeared and guided him through the arch.[/FONT]

***
[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Under another elsewhere arch, another dusty figure rejoiced at the view on his little screen. “Finally, it's unfrozen! I thought he'd be standing there on that level forever!”[/FONT]

 

[Aun Doorback]

Re: 300 WORD CHALLENGE -- number 5 -- READ FIRST POST

A roll of the dice


I am told that everybody has a skeleton in the closet. Mine is kept in a chamber under my father’s study.

My father was a Physicist. Not as great or renown as the others he first met in Brussels on the 29th October 1927, but a clever man nonetheless. He did not crave celebrity such as Einstein, yet he was a member of the fraternity and one that challenged the old ways.

He travelled back with Heisenberg taking with them the most bizarre set of ideas ever concocted by scientists and threw himself back into his studies, which he colloquially referred to as the ‘Universal web’.

In 1936 my father suffered a nervous breakdown and retired from public affairs after an article was published that gained popularity and dismissed the suggestion that particles could be transmitted instantaneously between systems, no matter how far apart they were.

When war broke out my father was forgotten and left alone to repair his fragile state. I was ten when he ushered me down the stairs into the old crypt, which he used as a laboratory. He had an invention that would end the war. It was a Quantum Machine that would travel to a parallel universe and prove alternative existences.

‘Don’t you see,’ he shouted ‘This will change the rules. It will change the World!’ And with that, notebook in hand, he stepped upon the machine’s platform and vanished forever.

~

I am an old man of eighty now and have kept his work a secret for there is a term called the ‘The Butterfly effect’ that suggests that tiny changes can have major ramifications later on. The Black hole which is consuming our solar system is said to have been created seventy years ago.

My father changed the world by flapping his wings.

 

[Ursa major]

Re: 300 WORD CHALLENGE -- number 5 -- READ FIRST POST

Statue of Limitations​

Wishing I didn’t have to, I approach the Director.

“May I speak to you privately?” I ask, adding, as humorously as I can, “It could take a second.”

No immediate reply. Of course not. In debating all the pros and cons, I’ve failed to consider the consequences for the Director.

“No. Never.” A very public rebuke. But the resigned way in which it’s delivered gives me hope, and presents me with all I need to proceed.

“Thank you, Director,” I say, privately. “You’re saving me much embarrassment.”

“This had better be important.”

“My reputation may be at stake.”

“Not important, then.”

I try to ignore the insult. “So you’ll be unaware of my researches in the deep archives.”

“You may assume my ignorance on this one matter.”

“I have found files which were accessed only pre-Enlightenment.”

“And you’re surprised? Only the bigoted and the foolish deny the Time Before.”

“Not at all,” I say, rather too quickly. “But I’m baffled. The encryption is mild, yet I can make no sense of the file contents.”

“You’ve used all the Directorate’s resources?”

“As many as I could. But as I said, I find my failure embarrassing. And dangerous. Have I missed an easy clue that an amateur would see? Or have I stumbled across something so terrible that the encryption itself is hidden? I fear the latter, which is why I’ve brought only one example.”

“Let me study it.”

The receipt of the file is met with laughter. Before this subsides, I’ve already written my resignation and proffered it.

“No need for that.” The Director’s mood changes to sadness. “Here, inside our perfect, digital world, we have everything, everything save the sense our creators used to interpret the image...”

Image?

“...in this file: sight.”

 

[stormcrow]

Re: 300 WORD CHALLENGE -- number 5 -- READ FIRST POST

Corridors of Power

H. G. Byron stands impassively overlooking arrivals gate N9 at the new Hive Haven. Beyond Arrivals lie the cavernous docking bays, designed to accommodate three solar-wind schooners – each of these a silent greyhound of the star-ways.

This…can’t…be…right – the thought crawls the dull-cast corridors of his mind – This…isn’t…the…Library.

At Hive HUB, Apis Stryker – Project Enabler for today’s Grand Opening Ceremony – spins on one rapier heel, blunt cut and insectoid; flaring with annoyance.
“Who the frelt signed this in?” Nervous glances between her HUB team, “No-blame culture, ma’am?”

Silently incandescent, Apis stalks away into the endless Hive corridors, intent on “a few sharp words” with “a certain receipting clerk”.

Twenty-three levels below, amid the smooth machine that is Goods In/Out, two workers – Overalls and Suit – detached from the regular activity around them; nervously reading, checking, re-checking; Orders, Receipts, Schedules.

Suit mops his brow, panicky now. There’s been a mistake. Overalls is silent: shoe-gazing. His mistake. Two crates, two utility carriers. Loaded; ahead of schedule.
“You frelting hole! She’ll eat us alive for this!”

H.G. Byron senses, rather than sees, a vast shadow passing slowly across the windows. The first travellers, aboard the golden SWS Queen Mellifera, edge closer to the sweeping anchorage.

In the Library, bronze pedestalled and heroic in full-dress uniform, Sky Admiral “Buzz” Montgolfier is questioning his own predicament; so many books.

This…can’t…be…right – old campaigners’ reasoning – This…isn’t…the…concourse.

With a distant hiss, the Mellifera glides to a halt against her moorings; there’ll be a slight delay on disembarkation – the exhibits must be right before the worthy arrive.

Meanwhile, Apis Stryker reaches Goods In/Out, hissing vitriol and muttering furiously about process and accountability. They’ll have her jewelled wings for this.

Wisely, Overalls has taken himself elsewhere, Suit awaits Ms. Stryker’s stinging appraisal:

“Time to refactor the process.”

 

[Christopher Lee]

Re: 300 WORD CHALLENGE -- number 5 -- READ FIRST POST

A Miserable Day in Fictional History


​

Boys with curious, adolescent eyes march away to war; men with pupils black as coal and expressionless faces return from war.

Mothers lose their sons as arrows find their targets. Blood splatters along walls as swords open jugulars. Men yell at the tops of their lungs, but none except the devils they fight hear them.

Today, the enemy’s ringing my door bell.

Inside, a king punches a wall in frustration; outside, a boy’s body is torn to pieces by grapeshot.

Inside, a king paces back and forth, contemplating of a new strategy; outside, fathers and sons litter his courtyard like the rats in his city’s sewers.

I have seen war, and this is no war. This is slaughter. Farmers and blacksmiths fighting against devils from another world! Who am I to decide their fates? A king, betrayed by my own brothers! Where are the promised vessels? The sea is empty, with not the slightest hint of our allies racing to meet their beaten brethren?

The king stops, and peers through a window. What he witnesses turns his stomach. Men are tossed into the air like dolls; blood squirts into the sky like water from a sprinkler. Devils swipe their claws at his men, opening throats, stomachs, and arteries as they swarm closer to the castle. The men fighting alongside the devils fire their rifles and cannons from a distance; the stray shots not harming the devils they hit.

He knows what must be done. The castle was rigged for such an atrocity. Explosives had previously been strung through every hallway of his massive fortress.

They’ll break inside at any moment.

A peasant in nobleman’s attire paces up and down a long corridor, waiting to spring a trap. A king vanishes through a trap door.

 

[The Judge]

Re: 300 WORD CHALLENGE -- number 5 -- READ FIRST POST

Steel Body, Stone Heart?


“We need you. They’re slaughtering us.”

He said nothing. She wasn’t the first to come to the monastery to confront him, to seek his help; to argue, plead, cajole, threaten.

“Three heavy cruisers. Wiped out. A dozen corvettes. Seven outposts have been razed. Every colony is under threat. Our people are dying.”

Our people. Her people, certainly, but his?

“How can you do nothing when you could save them?”

Andreasen continued talking despite his silence. The same anger he had heard from the others. The same insistence, the same demands, as if he were no more than a machine, no more than their cruisers or corvettes.

He turned the page.

“Thousands of people dead, and you – you’re just standing here, reading.”

She struck his hands, sweeping the book away. It landed with a clatter. He said nothing but walked over and picked it up. Blowing dust off its cover, he walked back. He opened the book again.

“Parvati’s dead. She was on New Darwin when the Marauders hit. She’d taken early retirement. To grow tomatoes, she said. I saw what they did to her body.”

Parvati. His first captain. Patient, kind. She had loved him, helped him to grow. She used to joke she had given him part of her soul.

Stupid sentimentality. Human sentimentality.

A tear fell onto the paper.

He looked up. Andreasen was dry-eyed. Then whose...?

She touched a finger to his cheek. Her fingertip came back wet.

“You’re crying.” Her voice was hushed, aghast. “Is that possible?”

Tears. Sorrow. Remorse.

A soul. A human soul.

Our people...

“I will come,” he said.

His body, his true body, orbited the planet. He would merge with it and become the Warship Annihilator again. And kill for his people.

He let the book fall to the stone floor.

 

[James Coote]

Re: 300 WORD CHALLENGE -- number 5 -- READ FIRST POST

I remember

His old, leathery, weather-worn fingers danced across the stone surface. Feeling every fissure, every crack and crevice, his mind drifted back to that hazy summer's day..


High over head, the sun beat down, delicate sheets of light lancing through the canopy. Below, the cool shade, rustled by the gentle tingle of the river, as it washed across his toes. His feet slipped on the slimy pebbles, as he moved upstream. Ahead, his brother, head down, was inspecting something he had found in the waters.

The world around them evaporated in an instant, everything turning to white, except for the dark silhouette of his brother. That image, scarred across his mind, the abiding memory, a single, pure vision before his eyes turned to pain.
Clutching his sockets, he stumbled and crashed into the water. The blast wave washed away his clothes, his skin away from his body, erased his childhood.


Stepping back from the sculpture, as if to admire the work, his hands trembled. It was just as he recalled, all those years ago, and although he could cry no tears, in his heart, he whispered to his brother's lost soul, "I remember."

 

[Culhwch]

Re: 300 WORD CHALLENGE -- number 5 -- READ FIRST POST

The Silent Dark

Day 43
Breached level thirteen today. Unlike twelve above, no evidence of trapdoors or portals to descend – had to cut our way down. Seismic surveys show this is the lowest level of the complex, and most sprawling. Exploration begins tomorrow morning.

Day 49
It’s amazing how endless – and empty – these tunnels are. Covered kilometres by foot. The drones have travelled even farther. No sign of ritual decoration seen in levels above. Walls, floors, arches – a blank canvas, and not a mark on them.

Day 55
One of the drones found something. We’ll move out tomorrow.

Day 57
Two days of walking to the spot. The statue loomed out of the darkness so suddenly it startled all three of us. The play of our torches made it seem almost … alive.

Day 58
A day of testing. No progress. The thing is made from an unidentifiable material that radiates an intense cold. It's featureless countenance seems unmoved by our efforts.

Day 61
Barnes is missing. Appears he wandered off in the night. Perhaps got turned around in a cross-tunnel? Recalled the drones to conduct a search.

Day 62
Haven’t told Mitchell, but could swear the statue has moved. An inch or two only, but studied my photos. Definitely moved.

Day 63
One of the drones found another statue, quite nearby. Remarkable that we missed it. Search for Barnes continues. We pray he’s okay.

Day 64
We’ve reached the second statue. Something oddly familiar about it. Mitchell says that’s because it’s identical to the first. I’m not sure. But it is just as cold.

Day 65
Mitchell’s gone. Drones have found nothing. Surrounded by darkness and silence. Will make for the exit – that’s where Barnes and Mitchell will be, I’m sure.

Day 68
Cold. So cold.

 

[Ursa major]

Re: 300 WORD CHALLENGE -- number 5 -- READ FIRST POST

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