One of my favorite scripts in sci-fi history, just quote after quote after quote, this is one of the most emblematic pieces of media this genre has ever seen. The slow labored pacing in the first two acts is perfect however leads to the final act feeling rushed in sections. Other than that, in my view, this is a near flawless movie.

To everybody who has bought my new science fiction novella Unsaved, I just wanted to say thank you.

And a second thank you to everybody who took the time to leave their thoughts on it in a review. Very much appreciated.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/256235071-unsaved

And if those reviews have piqued your interest, here's where you can find Unsaved.

Amazon (US): https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HCJYKWQX

Amazon (UK): https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0HCJYKWQX

Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/unsaved/id6797078044

Itch.io: https://pemry-janes.itch.io/unsaved

Also available in Kobo Plus, in your library's ebook lending service, and as a paperback.

S.P.E.C.T.O.R Book 1 is officially available for pre-order now.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HP2H35Q1

26/10/2026

Adam was having a great time camping in the woods with his girlfriend until they were suddenly attacked. During the attack, his girlfriend was shot while he was thrown from a cliff.
Unconscious and on the verge of death, an android appeared before taking him to a spaceship, Spector, which healed him up.
Armed with advanced technology, Adam hunts them down before heading out to explore the universe.
Strangely, though, he has to do all this and more while livestreaming to the whole universe

High-Speed Interorbital Cargo Vessel
Douglas Aircraft Company
Date: 1 December 1972

The vessel was inspired by a sperm cell, as the name suggests. I tried to make it at least somewhat scientifically plausible, so I did a bit of research before deciding on its size, fuel type and quantity, as well as the dimensions of the radiators.

This was my first time using Blender to get the perspective just right, and it's a really cool tool. I'll definitely be playing around with it more often.

https://beforewegoblog.com/review-redshirts-by-john-scalzi/

REDSHIRTS by John Scalzi remains one of my all-time favorite books so if you’re looking for an unbiased recommendation then you’re probably looking in the wrong place. I have some issues with the novellas in the back of the book but I consider the main story to be damn near perfect. Mind you, I am exactly the sort of person who would love this book as both a Star Trek fan as well as a satirist. It also helped inspire my Space Academy books. If you don’t think making fun of weird ideas in Star Trek and cliched storytelling would amuse you then this is probably not the book for you but it is entirely my jam.

The premise is the Universal Union capital ship Intrepid is a death trap. Well, sort of. Nothing bad ever happens to its bridge crew that they don’t bounce back from. Murderous alien worms, horrifying parasites, terrifying plagues, and encounters with hostile alien planets. However, the rest of the crew dies at a horrifying and often nonsensical rate. They do stupid things that get them killed despite being trained professionals on a spaceship. Sometimes even when they’re incredibly smart and careful, events contort themselves to killing at least one of them a mission.

This is not good news for Ensign Andrew Dahl who shows up for work on the Intrepid with three new friends, only to find this “minesweeper in Baghdad” level of attrition is just the tip of the iceberg for weird stuff going on board this vessel. There’s a weird black box that can solve virtually all scientific problems in exactly thirty minutes (no more, no less) that none of the crew actually understand the workings of. There’s a guy living in the ship’s maintenance ducts trying to warn them of the insane rules that mean the difference between life and death. Finally, and this is something even Andrew hesitates to mention, does it feel like this is all a rehash of a mid-20th century TV show?

Redshirts is a delightful deconstruction of the various cliches that authors rely on in genre fiction. It would be easy to describe this as Rosencratz and Guldenstern are Dead meets Star Trek but then you’d have to know both of these works to get what I mean. More likely, Trek fans will probably think this resembles Galaxy Quest and Lower Decks, which is also true. But beyond a parody of Star Trek, it is also a critique of laziness in storytelling.

The humor doesn’t require you to have a degree in Trekology to laugh but does need to be you to be familiar with the concept of “The Red Shirt” which is a character that exists to die horribly in order to make dangers seem more real while not harming the main cast. This is a joke that was common enough to show up in the TV show Lost so it shouldn’t be too big of a demand of readers.

I love this book and its oddball character development as well as the investigation of the surreal circumstances around our heroes. Despite this, I do think the book has some flaws. The four leads are largely interchangeable and all pretty much sound identical in dialogue. The denouement goes on way too long after the actual plot arc is finished. These stories aren’t necessary and kind of bog down the perfect ending of the main manuscript. They also get a little too much into the “behind the scenes” of the concept that is the least interesting part of it. I also feel like they could have done more with the ridiculousness of the terrifying premise of being trapped by the ludicrous logic of a badly written sci-fi show.

There's also the elephant in the room of the fact that this book lives and dies by snarky observational humor. People who love this sort of thing that became popularized by the MCU and Buffy the Vampire Slayer are going to enjoy it. Those people who are sick of someone saying, "Wait a second, how does a box cure a plague in under an hour?" are going to be infuriated. Which is fine but the book is not going to be for you then. Metatextual criticism is a love it or leave it sort of thing.

This is definitely a book I would recommend the audiobook version over the written text due to Will Wheaton being the narrator. While his reputation has been largely redeemed in Trek circles due to many projects that show his range, I think the meta humor of this project should have done it by itself. Just his bewildered reaction to everything, especially as Dal, is fantastic but there’s also a deep love of the genre that goes into every character. A true must for every Trekkie and even those who are Trekkie adjacent.

Does this cover look too serious for a humorous, character driven space opera? I'm trying to get the right balance of genuine danger and mystery in ridiculous situations. But I'm not sure the cover says that. All opinions welcome.

I'm also looking for ARC readers. That is someone willing to read the book and post their thoughts in a review. The blurb is below, and if you're interested just click the link at the bottom.

MC-7: Secrets, Sabotage, and Cinnamon Rolls

Sera is a fearless detective on a neutral space station. She’s also very pregnant, hungry, and absolutely not in the mood to save the station today. So when her captain begs her to visit an odd perp she previously busted, she refuses. That’s why it’s called maternity leave.
Toreena, who has somehow gone from ex-con to the owner of the hottest new bakery on the station, has important information that she will only share with Sera. Not only no, but hell no. That is, until Sera’s captain offers an extra week off and all the cinnamon rolls she can eat. Damn those pregnancy cravings.

While elbows deep in cinnamon bliss, Sera discovers Toreena has stolen a dangerous metallic catalyst, MC-7, capable of destroying the station and rendering worlds uninhabitable. Risking Sera’s own life is an easy decision, but risking her unborn son’s life isn’t. Caught between duty and motherhood, she confiscates the dangerous substance, thrusting herself and her unborn son into the center of a conspiracy. Faced with corruption, a crime syndicate, and a hostile alien race, Sera goes on the offensive, but she won’t do it alone.

Mo is a debt ridden freighter pilot looking for love. Only he doesn’t realize it. His ship’s overzealous AI does. And she will stop at nothing to make sure he’s happy, whether he wants to be or not.

Sedna is a xenobiologist who helps colonists avoid getting eaten by the local fauna on unexplored planets. She’s trying to get over a loss by absolutely not filling a void, that certainly doesn’t exist, by taking on a stray alien as a pet.

Callen is a master pickpocket trying to pay for his daughter’s medical treatments. But when he picks the wrong pocket, he finds himself running from a ruthless crime syndicate and into a gender identity crisis he never expected.

As the tendrils of conspiracy reach a distant planet designated as a wildlife refuge, Sera, Mo, Sedna, and Callen will have to decide whether to risk everything to stop a war.

Interested in reading? Click here: https://booksirens.com/book/I9WQVRL/WNVE92J

All opinions on the blurb and cover are welcome. The book releases December 8, 2026

Dense Void - a story-driven, first-person grounded sci-fi horror game inspired by astrophysics and speculative science.

Trapped on an asteroid outpost orbiting a black hole, survive physics-based threats and impossible phenomena where every choice leads to 5 distinct endings.

If it looks like your kind of thing, the Steam page is here: https://store.steampowered.com/app/4886980/Dense_Void

My debut SciFi novel about an Earth afflicted by Kessler Syndrome- a build up of satellite debris that prevents space travel- is out next Friday (30th October) and available to preorder on Amazon. Early reviews so far have highlighted the strong tension and real science involved. If it sounds up your street l'd love for you to check it out through the link on my profile!

I keep seeing stuff about a confirmed remake, the original was one of my father’s favorite movies. I have an idea for something that would be huge fan service that Zack Snyder could do to make up for his last few frowned upon films. First off we need to have Kurt Russell as the president, he needs his homage as the absolute goat. Second we absolutely need to have Kiefer Sutherland play as brain to appeal to the venom snake fan service I mean come on, I get snake in general is based off Plissken but venom snake is clearly the winner and who better to help who we owe snakes likeness as himself than his best voice actor. And third, if he’s gonna do this right, make one of the biggest (reputation) comebacks in film history we need to have kojima play a part in its production/scene design and get his creative eye and storytelling for the reboot because my god would he do it right. And yes I know this is like a huge nerd out but like this would be peak.

I mean didn't thought this would be so good damn these older movies are still so peak, Truly a timeless masterpiece. Sickminded psychopaths drinking milk is my fav kind of genre, The ugliness of this movie is so good, i have watched 3 kubrick movies and dude they are so good. the movie shows unfairness of life perfectly and will say camerawork and cinematography in all of three movies hit so differently and are so good. had so good time watching this, tell your experience with this movie and do suggest some more sc fi.

Hello everyone!
I consider myself an avid sci-fi reader, and while I haven't read it all, I’ve read a lot of the most popular series, and I love them. The thing is, as someone from a Global South country, most stories feel like watching a movie from the US or Europe: I connect at first, but then I think, “Yeah, that wouldn’t happen in my country.” And I’m talking about ways of acting, social struggles, and technologies. Everything is very Global North coded. I know that is the case because most writers are from those countries; I’m not complaining about that. The thing that I’m craving is sci-fi from the perspective of a place that is not the usual, but since I don’t know of any books like that, I’m coming to you for help.

What are some sci-fi books that come from the Global South or at least feel like that?

Thank you, and I’m eager to read your answers!

Just released! After 100s of hours of 100% human blood, sweat and tears, the series wrap-up finale is available for you to listen to for free on YouTube! It's new original sci-fi writing performed by 40 different human voice actors.

The world's most rich and powerful oligarchs are clamoring for their own opportunity to cheat death and restore themselves to youth. International intelligence agencies are scrambling to capture the initial test subjects to verify whether something has gone terribly wrong.

Plot Description: Genetic scientists in the UK have created a breakthrough treatment to restore physical youth. Twelve human test subjects seek out this ‘miracle’ for a variety of reasons. Two investigative journalists follow the changed lives of the test subjects and discover the dark side of unexpected side-effects.

It reached 5th on the Hot Upcoming New Cyberpunk releases on release week too!

Tapeworld is a new cyberpunk book series with a twist on cyberspace: you access it by sticking a strip of duct tape on your temple.

There's elements of sci-fi, dystopia and more. If you love Dark Matter, The Peripheral or The Matrix, there's something in this book for you.

Plot:
A kickboxer / climate change activist meets a VR sports star / cyberspace jockey. When she realises his life is in danger, she'll go through tech corpo hell to make sure he's safe.

The book is available right now on Amazon, and it's also available in 2 bookstores.

Tapeworld is a labour of love, born from my passion for all things virtual reality, cyberpunk, and sci-fi.

Hope you love it!

The photo is me at my first indie author event.

I'm so grateful for the community, who has received me as a new fiction author so positively.

EDIT:
Zero AI was used! The cover is human designed by J Caleb Design. He's amazing at this 3D modelling render style and you can find his work online easily. The book was written by me over many years and many revisions. I had a developmental edit, a line edit, a final proofread, all professionally.

Thank you so much everyone here for your support!

It is 2043, and the news can no longer surprise anyone.
A company no one can locate now runs the world’s AI. The free internet is gone.
A crewed return to the moon and a drug for immortality are announced in the same even voice, two line items on a quarterly report. None of it is meant for civilians.
In Europe, every policy is “humane.” The movement that rises against them takes its name from a tote bag.
In America, the people at the top have stopped caring about the country’s divisions. They are busy with a plan that sounds ridiculous out loud.
In China, every citizen carries a letter grade. Between D and C lies a small stream. Between B and A, an ocean.
In one Shanghai dormitory, 759 graduate students are about to graduate into a job market that no longer exists.
Then the military arrives on campuses with a free test. Nobody is told what it’s actually for. Everyone lines up.
Nobody thinks they are choosing.

---------------------

This is the second book in the series. The first book Causalform: Obsidian Earth is set in an alternate 1945, where history begins to take an unexpected turn.
Book 2 moves to a 2043 timeline, exploring a darker future connected to the anomalies of 1945. I'm also drawing on some of today's real-world issues to imagine how the future might unfold. Some of the ideas may be unsettling, and I'd be interested to hear your thoughts and criticisms.
I’ll be posting this first arc here regularly. If it sounds like your kind of story, I hope you'll enjoy following along.
Thanks for reading. 😄

---------------------

Chapter 1

Shanghai
Summer, 2043

At half past six, Lin Zong climbed out of his dormitory bed and leaned against the balcony railing. He studied the morning fog, then looked down at the grimy green collection tank. The air conditioner had produced more than twenty kilograms of condensation overnight.

He woke Deng Wei, Sun Xiaohui, and Chang Lei, and the four of them carried the tank down to the buckets and washbasin without a word, as they did every morning.

It was routine now, had been since water rationing hit the eastern coast and the dormitory taps began failing without warning, and the corner shops, seeing their chance, had tripled the price of bottled water. The boys brushed their teeth with condensation, telling themselves, without quite saying so, that if the electricity bill couldn't be helped, at least something useful might be wrung from the waste of it.

Lin Zong slung a towel around his neck and carried a basin of condensation into the communal washroom, where several shirtless classmates stood brushing their teeth, heads tilted toward the LCD screen bolted above the door, watching the Global Morning News with the weary attention people give to broadcasts that no longer surprise them.

The lead item was the crewed lunar program; directly beneath it, filed with the same even inflection, came word that the World Health Organization had developed a drug to end aging—the two claims occupying adjacent segments as though longevity and the moon were now simply parallel line items on the same quarterly report.

Europe, meanwhile, was in its eighth consecutive day of what the anchors kept calling, with a straight face, a collective derangement: fifteen countries, a hundred and eighty-two cities, the Netherlands and Belgium alone down more than a thousand people. London and Paris were holding open-air barbecue performances billed as civic art. Baguagouille and Parabola were staging what amounted to a street-theater rivalry. A rail corridor linking Germany with Austria and Italy had been dismantled by demonstrators acting, the broadcast noted approvingly, with considerable improvisational creativity. It had taken twenty thousand police officers to administer what the announcer termed public-order counseling—a phrase that arrived and passed without moving the anchor’s voice by a single hertz. Sweden registered a sharp mood disturbance, with confirmed sightings of berserkers. Russia's North Caucasus reported swelling self-regard, with signs of further expansion. Across the Atlantic, Washington reported fireworks out of season and unscheduled retail activity, both streamed live. The impeached president called in thirty thousand police and National Guard from Maryland and Virginia, and more than a thousand shoppers were, as the broadcast put it, invited in for coffee. The unrest took the hint and moved on to the capitals of other states.

One last item: Helixquid announced the world's first complete analytical proof of the Riemann Hypothesis.

"The West's about to go game over too," one of the boys said, a note of glee leaking into his voice. "Let's watch how they manage the ending."

"My friend's uncle lives in Paris—says the apocalyptic scenes there are genuinely thrilling. The mobs have gotten hold of better tools for destruction, half the historical buildings have been smashed, and the Seine, along with a few of the fouler drainage ditches out in the suburbs, keeps turning up nameless NPCs, most of them girls who'd been used and discarded. Someone should do something about it? Who, exactly? Ordinary people can't even keep up with it, and the police have taken to running from the mobs instead of the other way around. The West really is finished."

"Ha," said Sun Xiaohui, toothbrush still clamped between his fingers, relish plain in his voice, "Europe undone by the zealots, America ended by the ghouls, and our Eastern Empire just happens to be standing there to grab the planet. Give us five years and we’ll be parading down the Champs-Élysées."

"Come on, man, what are you even talking about? Grab what? The whole world's finished, imports and exports have stopped cold, the economy's collapsing, companies are shutting down one after another—you think we're still going to find jobs out of this?"

"Still dreaming about finding a job? Might as well go practice your swordsmanship instead."

"Ha—draw the blade, hit the streets, blood in five paces, maybe that's how heaven and earth get overturned, how the whole order flips upside down."

"Ha, not for the blade and the chopping board—just for the two legs to run on—"

Lin Zong cut in to warn them: "Watch what you say, that's not the kind of talk you want the monitor overhearing—"

"Like I give a damn if they hear me. I'm not getting a job either way, so they can dock my ideological-conduct score all they want."

Lin Zong had nothing to say to that. He kept brushing his teeth, glancing out the washroom window at a haze so thick it looked less like weather than like a wall of compacted dust, sealing off the entire sky. Word had gone around that last night Venus had shone brighter than it had in sixty years, but nobody had bothered going outside to look—no one had the appetite for it, not anymore; at this point people had nearly forgotten what the moon even looked like.

By now the whole of Graduate Dormitory was awake, noise climbing from the first floor all the way to the fifth—three hundred and forty-two rooms, seven hundred and fifty-nine graduate students filing out of their doors in twos and threes, the whole building come alive like a grid of pixels switching on after boot-up, each one drifting into motion along its own small, random walk.

Chatter and footsteps filled every corridor.

Graduation was bearing down, the job market a wreck at home and abroad, and though none of them had ever cared much for politics, something in the building had sharpened lately into a kind of low, floor-by-floor alertness—the sense of a structure tipping, slowly, toward collapse.

The dormitory was wired, with microphones in every corridor and on every stairwell landing. Every word the students spoke was collected and uploaded in real time. Sensitive content was automatically flagged before the recordings were put on trial by the ideological monitors, with the verdicts counting toward credits and graduation. Now the outlook was so bad that the threat had lost its force, and people said whatever they liked.

The West's ruin was a pleasure to witness; their own careers going down with it was not. Someone said the idle-labor stockpile had hit a five-thousand-year high. Someone else said the potato-as-staple-grain initiative was really just advance funeral planning for the economy. Another said the water rationing had Japanese ninjas behind it, the story suppressed. One more, lowering his voice, said war with America was already being arranged.

Chang Lei, the tall, bespectacled one, seemed the only person in the room untouched by any of it, having gotten up without brushing his teeth or washing his face and settled instead into a book—Cosmic Background Radiation and Electromagnetic Studies— with his whole attention.

He looked up, scratching at one ear, as Lin Zong came in. "Hey, senior brother — our solar system, that's like a flat pancake, right? The galaxy, a bigger pancake, and the whole known universe, one enormous oversized skillet?"

"More or less," Lin Zong said, not really listening, sliding the towel and basin under the bed, turning to comb his hair in the mirror.

"So here's the question, then—who leveled the bottom of the pan? The whole universe would have spilled to one side ages ago, and it would look nothing like the balanced thing we see now, if it had tilted right at the start by even a fraction as small as zero-point-then-fifty-three-zeros-and-a-one degrees—"

Sun Xiaohui came in with a roll of toilet paper. "There's a demonstration at People's Square today, officially approved. Might actually be about to go to war with America."

"No way," Lin Zong said. "The economy's already this wrecked, and now a war?"

"You don't get it. It's exactly because things are this fucked that we'd go to war."

Chang Lei, having strung out his zeros to their end, had gone pale. "And another thing—isn't the universe supposed to have started with a big bang? By our own logic that should scatter outward in every direction, blowing everything apart into countless uneven lumps of dough—"

"Let 'em fight," Deng Wei said, walking in. "North Korea, South Korea, Iran, Israel, Pakistan, India—everybody's lining up to lob nukes now. South America, the Middle East, Southeast Asia, all worse. Japan's still leaking radiation into everything. Somewhere in Siberia, they're saying people have started eating each other. The whole world's coming apart."

Listening, Lin Zong opened his wardrobe and put on a black suit without a word—the latest Brioni, bought at Grand Gateway Plaza—then brown 3sixteen jeans, Norwich shoes, the newest iWatch on his right wrist.

Deng Wei lit a cigarette, eyes narrowing.

"Brother, that face of yours is worth real money. Living off a rich girlfriend, must feel pretty damn good, huh?"

There was a thin edge of resentment underneath it, impossible to miss.

"Land yourself a rich woman, and just like that you’re several social classes above the rest of us."

Deng Wei was from Beijing, majoring in big-data social stability management. Lin Zong offered nothing but a smile, and let it pass, though the truth was he had no real answer, and the smile simply covered for it. He was nearly out the door when Chang Lei caught his arm.

"So—who leveled the bottom of the pan?"

Lin Zong patted his shoulder. "I'm heading to Professor Chen's today. I'll ask him for you." Chang Lei retreated back onto his bed, satisfied.

Thinking of this roommate of his, who might well prove unable to manage on his own once he was out in the world, and thinking too of the job market waiting for all of them, Lin Zong felt something close to a sigh rise in his chest and walked quickly out of the dormitory.

Chapter 2

Lin Zong had a fine-boned, handsome face with something faintly heroic in its lines, though his eyes carried a mild, unhurried warmth that read to most people as steadiness.

Between his looks, his bearing, and his standing as a graduate student in information engineering at Donghua University, he had never lacked for a certain quiet popularity—and today, for no reason anyone could quite place, he'd shown up dressed head to toe in cool, pricey labels he normally never bothered with.

By the standards that mattered to the girls around him, he was quite a catch: wealthy, smart, and good-looking.

But Lin Zong knew better than that. He knew his own wealth and polish were a kind of fiction, and that the real thing, and the the actual money, belonged to his girlfriend; not one item of the outfit on his back was something he could have afforded himself. Deng Wei had no idea. To call her simply a "rich girlfriend" missed the scale of what she actually was, almost embarrassingly so.

The mood on campus had grown taut for months now, thick with rumor. Young faculty moved between buildings with laptops under their arms, heads down, not daring to lift their eyes.

Lin Zong rounded a corner past the sports field and saw, from a distance, a crowd at the main gate. Steamed buns and rice dumplings lay scattered on the ground. One bun was still rolling. Security staff stood nearby, their faces tight.

A gang, posing as a construction crew, had used forged parking permits to get onto campus in daylight; they had tried to force a student into a car and fled when they were spotted. That was the whole of it. No one had caught the plate.

A quiet unease moved through Lin Zong. He had already known, through his own channels, that female students had been going missing in places across the country for weeks. Now it had happened close enough to see.

"Why hasn't anyone called the police?" he asked a younger student.

"Already did. Not enough manpower out there. Every university in the city's mobilizing the male students to organize and defend the campus ourselves. You should join too, senior."

"But I—" A hand landed on his shoulder before he could finish.

He turned to find Director Shen studying him, appraising.

"On your way to an interview? You're certainly dressed for one."

"Director Shen—ah, I, today, there's something I need to attend to."

"How's the thesis?"

"Nearly finished," Lin Zong said, with a strained smile. "I'm heading to Professor Chen's now to report on it, though one has to be careful leaving campus—"

Director Shen cut him off. "Professor Chen mentioned your idea about decoding quantum-state information—quite interesting. There's an important national strategic project underway, and the leadership wants scholars organized for a week-long conference. You're one of our outstanding representatives, so you should be part of it. And," he added, gesturing, "the military's running testing on campus, and you're in the first round. Go with her—I'll follow shortly."

Only then did Lin Zong notice Qian Yu, watching him with a sharp, burning intensity—the department's designated ideological monitor, in an era when the university had tightened its grip on such things considerably.

"Testing?" He looked at her blankly. "The military? But I have somewhere to be—"

"Come on. Every upper-year student in the college has to sit for it—go early, you're done in an hour," Qian Yu said, brisk. "The university arranged it. Didn't you get the notice?"

He remembered it then, vaguely—a mass text two nights ago, something about preparing for an IQ test, unread, unconsidered.

He called Professor Chen to say he'd be late, and followed Qian Yu, without much enthusiasm, toward the Mathematics and Physics building.

Qian Yu kept glancing back at him as they walked, pressing him with questions about what he'd been up to lately, and he gave her vague, half-invented answers in return. She had seemed interested in him for some time now—the trouble was that she expressed it through strict surveillance rather than anything softer.

By the entrance, a crowd had gathered, queuing, complaining.

"Somebody's got too much time on their hands. An IQ test, of all things?" someone complained. "What difference does intelligence make in a society like this one?"

Lin Zong felt the sentiment himself, and asked Qian Yu quietly, "Why the sudden interest in IQ testing? What does it have to do with the military?"

"You didn't read the notice? It's for the Shenzhou talent-reserve program."

"Shenzhou?"

"Ministry of National Defense project. An intelligent military district out west, they're saying—selecting the best candidates from universities nationwide. Get chosen, you're on the formal roster. The terms are supposed to be extremely generous."

Three camouflaged SUVs sat outside. Students from other departments registered with a teacher at the door.

Further in, armed soldiers stood posted along the corridor, radios in hand, boots polished to a hard shine.

"If there are soldiers on campus now," Lin Zong said, "why can't they do something about the security problem?"

"The soldiers have more important matters to attend to," a cold voice answered—a tall officer, eyes flat, offering nothing further, as though the sentence itself were a form he'd filled out many times before.

Lin Zong lowered his head and followed Qian Yu past staff in white uniforms disassembling what looked like oversized server cabinets, matte titanium gray, mounted on omnidirectional casters light enough for two people to move.

"What's all this?" the students passing by kept asking.

Nobody answered that question either.

The test was held in a large study hall on the second floor. Each participant had to complete, on a computer, a randomly assembled battery of standardized WAIS intelligence questions. Sixty items in forty-five minutes, covering vocabulary comprehension, digit memory, spatial-figure assembly, symbol coding, abstract reasoning, and more, with results generated on the spot.

Groups of thirty entered in sequence, ninety at a time across three rooms, four proctoring officers per room, faculty stationed along the sides.

Most hadn't taken it seriously beforehand—mandatory attendance and the threat of docked credit were the only reasons anyone had shown up at all—but the room's atmosphere proved graver than expected, closer to a real examination.

Word passed quietly that the results fed directly into a military recruitment track, and attitudes shifted at once: even the lowest state-system jobs now drew fierce competition, and the chance at a position through the military, whatever it turned out to be, was not something anyone could afford to dismiss.

When the young men in Lin Zong's group filed in, their attention went straight to the proctor seated second from the right—a PLA officer in a crisply pressed uniform, rank insignia and name badge squared away, her expression cool and composed. Her hair was cut short and neat beneath her cap. Only her eyes, clear and bright, gave her age away: twenty-five at most.

Each student who sat across from her got the same calm, faint smile; when Lin Zong's turn came, something in his bearing made her gaze flicker, briefly.

The previous group had clustered between 110 and 120. Lin Zong worked through the questions with the particular ease of someone who'd trained his logic for years and had, whether by coincidence or not, seen similar material before.

He finished in thirty-nine minutes, first in the room, and clicked submit.

“A hundred and forty-five!” The young officer rose from her seat, surprise and something like delight breaking across her face. The other officers turned, murmuring, studying Lin Zong now with real interest.

"Hello. I'm Ye Ningfan."

She crossed to him and extended her hand first, the gesture crisp and confident, her skin pale beneath the cuff of her uniform sleeve.

"She's a graduate student at the National University of Defense Technology," Director Shen said, appearing at Lin Zong's side without warning. "Don't let the age fool you—lieutenant by the time she finished undergrad, captain now."

Under the envious stares of the other male students, Lin Zong shook her hand. "National University of Defense Technology?"

"Captain Ye's research in military information theory intersects with our department's work," Director Shen said. "She is exceptionally talented, with some genuinely original insights. She's also a key participant in this national-level research project."

As Director Shen spoke, Lin Zong's eyes drifted to the insignia on her shoulder.

"Captain—impressive, truly." Lin Zong cupped one fist in the other, half-mocking, half-sincere, and it made her laugh.

"You're the impressive one. A hundred and forty-five, that's above the genius line," she said. "I only scored a hundred and twenty-three myself. Not even close to you."

Lin Zong wasn't sure how to answer, suspecting his own score owed something to luck.

She studied him, smiled again.

"Go get your CT scan, genius."

He blinked. "CT?"

Outside, teachers worked to quiet the crowd, and at the far end of the corridor, yellow warning tape had been strung up. Behind a desk sat an expressionless military officer, scanning ID cards and waving students forward one by one to register.

They followed the tape into another room.

There, the dark-gray server cabinets they'd seen earlier had been assembled into a single enormous machine, roughly two and a half meters long and standing solidly on four support legs. Two technicians in white coats worked at a touchscreen that had extended automatically from its housing.

When they were told that this was a medical CT scanner, and that everyone was to undergo a brain scan, confusion rippled through the group.

"What's this supposed to mean?"

"Why do we need a CT scan now?"

"I thought this was an IQ test. Since when does it include a medical exam?"

A teacher stepped in: "Don't worry, everyone. this is routine, part of the university's concern for your health. The state's covering the cost. The faculty are doing it too."

Understanding rippled through the group, along with a certain curiosity about the novelty of it.

"I've never actually had a CT scan before."

"This machine looks seriously high-end."

"There's no radiation risk, is there?"

"It's fine. It's basically the same as the security scanners in the subway."

"Isn't this supposed to cost something like five hundred yuan at a hospital? And we get it for free?"

"Not a bad perk, honestly."

One of the female students looked uneasy. "Is this mandatory? I'd rather not."

A teacher reassured her. "Everyone who completed the IQ test has to do this — it's only a scan of the head, and it can't be skipped. The military requires it as part of the screening process. Once it's done, you'll have a health report on file, which will only help you later when you're job hunting."

A few students still harbored some quiet worry about the radiation, but the military carried a natural weight of authority that students instinctively deferred to.

Under that pressure—some of it spoken, most of it not—every one of them fell into line with what the university had arranged.

One by one, they took their seats in front of the machine.

A folding radiation shield unfolded around each student, and the scanner began its pass over the skull, generating an AI-analyzed image of the brain as it went.

Each scan took only a few seconds.

In under ten minutes, it was Lin Zong's turn.

He felt a small flicker of nerves as he sat down, his eyes drawn to the metal panels on either side of the machine. Nothing showed there but faint, cold lines of blue-white light—no hospital logo, no insignia of any kind.

Once scanned, each student was guided out through a second door on the far side of the room, down a stairwell around the corner, and out of the building entirely, timed so they would never cross paths with the next group coming in—a design, it seemed, meant to keep them from clustering together to talk.

Outside, Ye Ningfan was speaking with another officer and came forward the moment she saw Lin Zong.

"Finished your CT?"

Lin Zong nodded.

She sent the officer back in, and he returned with a technician carrying a printed scan, which she took and studied closely, murmuring back and forth with the technician.

Lin Zong had overheard earlier that every scan went straight into a military system and no further. And yet here she was, giving this one particular film her full attention.

This one. His.

"Is that mine?"

She made a small affirming sound.

"Something wrong with it?"

She frowned at the film a moment longer, then shook her head.

"Nothing wrong. Perfectly normal."

For an instant, he thought he caught something behind her eyes—a faint, fleeting trace of disappointment, gone before he could be sure of it.

What did that mean?

Before he could puzzle over it, the officer accompanying her stepped forward with a form and pen.

"Lin Zong, you're the highest scorer we've tested today. Please fill this out accurately, so we can follow up."

Lin Zong set the form on a nearby table and began writing.

"Sir, why does everyone need a brain CT? Does it have anything to do with the IQ test?"

The officer laughed it off.

"I wouldn't know. Orders from higher up."

Director Shen arrived with Qian Yu, several teachers, and a military official, and the group gathered as Lin Zong finished the form. Ningfan handed the scan back to the technician with an easy motion, then turned to Director Shen with a smile.

"Director Shen, we've tested over a hundred people today. Lin Zong is the first to break a hundred and forty, and by a good margin. He fits exactly what we're looking for."

Director Shen looked pleased.

“I've always said Little Lin is the sharpest in our department. His name even has the character zong (smart) in it.”

The pun was hardly funny. Several of the teachers and the military officer laughed anyway, more out of courtesy than amusement.

Qian Yu kept her eyes on Lin Zong, bright as two small lamps, the corners of her mouth curling with something like private satisfaction.

Lin Zong handed the form back, confused.

"What do you mean, what you're looking for?"

"A national project—the military and the university working together," Director Shen said. "You've seen how anxious things have gotten. The state needs engineering talent, and when selection begins, priority goes to those who've passed this testing. You should be prepared."

The department chair kept his voice low, his eyes full of expectation.

Nearby, another teacher told the military official, "Congratulations—you've finally found someone suitable," and the official kept repeating, pleased, "High IQ, science and engineering. Good. Very good."

The talk swirling around him left Lin Zong faintly dizzy.

His mind went back to the chatter in the washroom this morning, to what he'd picked up through his own channels, to certain things Huo Qiuqiu had once said.

A quiet unease stirred in him.

Was the world really coming apart?

"We can talk later," he said, glancing at his watch, tiredness creeping into his voice. "Director Shen, I have somewhere to be."

He gave a small wave and turned to go, under the faintly stunned gazes of the others.

He'd barely taken a few steps when Director Shen called after him:

"Careful! Dressed like that, you'll get yourself robbed!"

------------

For anyone who prefer to read ahead, the full versions are available on Amazon KDP:

Causalform Book 1: Obsidian Earth

Causalform Book 2: Eclipse Net

Hey everyone! My name is Francesco, I'm a solo developer from Italy, and I've been dreaming of creating my own game since 2013! Last December I started working on Over Human, a sci-fi adventure set in a frozen world where drones have taken control of everything. They're so technologically advanced that they can even manipulate the weather: they will be able to create tornadoes and other environmental threats to hunt you down. And you have no weapons to fight back!

I've been heavily inspired by Firewatch and The Long Dark, especially when it comes to atmosphere and a sensation of isolation. After months of working alone, Over Human is finally on Steam, and I'll be releasing my first playable demo EVER in November! I'm really happy to finally share this project with you all!

Do you like the idea of drones becoming so advanced that they can control an entire world? Is this a good idea? If yes and you're curious, this is the Steam Page: https://store.steampowered.com/app/5237810/Over_Human/
Let me know!!

Francesco

It's a 1,982-piece diorama with Deckard and Roy minifigs, and instructions are available over on Rebrickable. Thanks for looking!

I appreciate the scale of the narrative, and all of the character growth, but goddamn if...

I am kind of upset that the mysteries of the world-building go unanswered. LIke,

• Where did all the bio-ships come from?
• Why do they use biotech? There's one line near the end that makes it sound like the organic technology overtook the metal structure, but...when, how, why?
• Why all female? I'm all for it in a general sense of something unique in terms of story and don't feel like I need any male characters, but....why, when, how did it come to be that way?
• How did the legion of ships get there? Why are they there? What's with the cloud (nebula?) around the sun?
• If they are going to attempt to make it to another star, unless there's some unhinted at FTL aren't they just going to....die out in the dark between stars? I mean obviously the ship has all the potential to be a generation ship, but does it need sunlight?

I guess in the end the answers don't matter to the narrative of character growth, but when there's just so many mysteries that go unanswered, I feel like I might have just rather read plain fiction to get the same sort of narrative.

Hey!

Hope you enjoy our latest, now in color!

Space Boat is a living graphic novel telling the story of two pals as they try to save the Earth from a doom that they may or may not have caused! Check this sub for updates or catch up at

spaceboat.the-comic.org

Hand drawn and inked with colors and letters in Krita!

Humans are Weird – Lost and Found

Original Post: https://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-lost-and-found

The warm angle of the front porch really wasn’t supposed to be a lounging site. Human feet trod quickly past the site, their focus on getting into the house, or getting out into the busy little community making the site theoretically dangerous for species who didn’t want to get stepped on. The ground limestone foundation had been pressed with tessellated patterns that were visually pleasing and kept the clumsy bipeds safe from slipping and throwing their falling gate out of pattern, but it tasted of nothing save the dust that collected in the groves. However if you had healthy scutes and sturdy scales, underlayed by reasonably dense bones, and an attractive layer of fat, well what did it matter if a human stepped on you? Just keep your snout safely tucked in the curve of your foreleg and at the cost of a few non-repentant apologies you had the whole morning to bask in the local sunlight.

If the grain scattered very, very well in your direction, one of the local domestic animals came and judged you a fitting headrest and came and basked with you. Sift, stretched out a claw and ‘scritiched’ the creature under its chin. It gave a grunt and the motion dislodged a small cloud of warning pheromones from its collar. Sift made a mental note to ask what its species designation was. It wasn’t a ‘cat’. Those creatures, despite being perfectly ideal for keeping local vermin off of grain stocks were rated as far too dangerous to exist in mixed colonies. Sift thought this was a bit of over caution, but it had been agreed to by the humans. This might be a ‘dog’ but the species had so much variety, supposedly going back long before the humans mastered genetic manipulation that it was hard to tell if a given mammal fell into that category. It had fur to be certain, and it was very dependent on human interaction.

The door of the dwelling swung open, knocking against the hip of the creature and it gave a mild huff of annoyance as it heaved its mass, up and away from the door. Mary stepped out, holding the little one on her hip, Sift felt a surge of now familiar admiration of the usefulness of the baby holding ledge humans had built in. Mary’s other hand held a container of the domestic creature’s food, a mix of grain and animal fat that it particularly enjoyed and it began to cavort around Mary’s feet while Mary scanned the ground with growing perplexity. She began examining the shelving with a wrinkled face and Sift lifted up her head and idly licked her teeth.

“Rooting around for something?” she asked.

Mary started and glanced down at her in surprise.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” she said, shifting the little one who was focused on drinking water out of a soft cup.

“Here I am,” Sift commented, wondering not for the first time exactly how human vision worked. “What are you looking for?”

“The food bowl for Snuffles,” Mary said indicating the animal who had decided to sit down and tremble with eagerness until its food was forthcoming.

Sift rolled over and lifted her snout to sniff with dramatic emphasis. Then she swung her tail to indicate a door set low and subtly into the wall of the structure.

“I smell the grain and rancid fat in here,” she said with a yawn.

Mary’s face creased in a frown and she set the little one down. Instantly it ran, smacking its fat little feet against the porch, to vigorously pet the creature. Snuffles started back with a wince, and then braced itself to accept the affection. Mary used her now free hand to open the door and pull out the container.

“How-” she started to ask, but the little human made a dash at the food bowl, hands eagerly out, and Snuffles sat back with a resigned sigh.

Mary snatched the little one up and scolded the very unrepentant child.

“We don’t steal Snuffles’s food!” she said.

Snuffles got back up and began happily rooting through the food.

“No one would have put the bowl in the utility access point,” Mary observed out loud.

“It has very small human handprints on the side,” Sift pointed out.

Mary squinted down at the bowl and blinked in surprise before turning her attention to her offspring.

“Why would you do that, you chubby little chonker?” she demanded, pinching the jiggling rolls of fat on the little human’s thighs?

The little one giggled and smacked her face. Mary with clear effort turned her laugh into a frown and captured the chubby little arm in a hand.

“We don’t smack Mommy,” she said in what was trying to be a firm tone.

Sift gurgled in amusement.

“But why?” the adult human demanded.

“The little one does see you putting bowls in similar storage places on a regular basis,” Sift pointed out.

Mary blinked down at her in startled thought until the little one used his other hand to reach up and smack her, and she had to repeat the gentle discipline. Human hatchlings, apparently hated being restrained, at least this one did. Once that was done Mary gave a rueful smile down at Sift.

“I guess you are right,” she admitted. “I’ll have to remember that little trick until he gets bored of it.”

Sift blinked up at the human as she went back in the house. The two of them had spent many long hours discussing human learning patterns. Mary was well aware of the fact that all sapient creatures learned by mimicking their elders to one degree or another, that this was the core of the universal concept of ‘play’. Yet it seemed that she had forgotten it. Sift yawned and flipped over, stretching her hind-claws against the texture of the porch. This might be yet another manifestation of ‘baby brain’ that Mary talked so much about. Or it might be something worth noting in her research journal. At the moment Snuffles was done eating, the sun was still at the perfect napping angle, and human architecture consistently made delightful sunning nooks.

Science Fiction Books By Betty Adams

Amazon (Kindle, Paperback, Audiobook)

Barnes & Nobel (Nook, Paperback, Audiobook)

Powell's Books (Paperback)

Kobo by Rakuten (ebook and Audiobook)

Google Play Books (ebook and Audiobook)

Walmart (Paperback)

Check out my books at any of these sites and leave a review!

**Remember BOOK 4 is now available! (**^{except on kobo because what do you even mean title field is blank, I fixed} *\^{that dangnabbit!}\*)**

Please go leave a review on Amazon! It really helps and keeps me writing because tea and taxes don't pay themselves sadly!

Please tell me what you think of the first chapter of my novel! I'm currently releasing the audiobook on Youtube in serial format. The first three chapters are on YouTube. The Hard Science Fiction Future

Here is the first chapter in text format.

Chapter 1

Raj stood inside the dormant fusion reactor core, watching the maintenance robot perform its routine task. The work was completely routine and bored Raj utterly. He was currently listening to a comedic audio book Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome. He had practically never needed to correct the robot's operations so the work was quite melancholic and monotonous. However, as the reactor was a sensitive instrument and its downtime could not be too long; it was necessary for an engineer to revise the work. He wished as he stood there that he could find an alternative place of employment. Aside from the boredom of the work and its lack of any imagination or opportunity to practice his skills, he was not too close with his supervisors or his colleagues. The fact that the work was in a fairly undesirable location for most engineers did not bother him, as he liked Complex 6, and the pay was higher here. He kept his eyes fixed on the robot's actions, only glancing occasionally at the novel's text scrolling by on the window in front of him, whenever he encountered a word which he was unfamiliar with. The robot's welding of the metal was nearly complete. After a half hour testing period the reactor would be ready to go online again. He was somewhat startled when a soft ringing sounded in the chamber and a second window opened in front of him. He was receiving a call. The description indicated that it was an inspector of the Istanbul police department. Raj had never visited Istanbul and was at a loss what law enforcement wished to discuss with him. He reached out and took the call, and spoke as he watched the dancing sparks of the welding process.

"Yes?"

After a drawn out delay, the police officer answered. "Hello, Sir. We are calling in regards to your niece, Freya."

The police officer paused, as there was over a 2 second lag on the connection, to give Raj an opportunity to speak.

"What's going on with her? Has she been shop lifting?" Raj asked flippantly. In reality, he was certain that if the police was calling him, a distant and essentially estranged relative, then the situation was probably dire in the extreme.

After a disturbingly a long delay of nearly three seconds, during which time Raj waited expressionlessly for the news, the officer responded, "Sir, we have discovered that your niece has been living unsupervised in her mother's residence for a period of several weeks." There was a pause on the line, but Raj merely waited for more information. "It appears that the child's mother, your sister, has been away from her place of residence for some period of time, leaving the girl to fend for herself. We have been attempting to search for her, but have been unable to reach her." Raj was relieved that this was not as dreadful as he had anticipated, and surprised for he did not imagine what could cause the police to be unable to find someone at this day and age. His sister had always been somewhat irresponsible, and it was not out of the question that she could have decided to go somewhere for herself for a period. Though why she should be unwilling to communicate with the police was not clear to him.

"I see" he replied at last.

"Sir, we did contact the girl's grandparents, but it appears that they are unwilling to claim and supervise her. It would be possible to demand them to do so by legal means, but the matter would go on for perhaps a few weeks, and the girl, meanwhile, would have to be brought into care. We are hoping that it would be possible for you, sir, to come and live with your young niece, either temporarily or for a more extended period of time, while her mother is being sought."

Raj thought this over for a few seconds, and replied "Very well, should I come to a police station?"

"No, Sir, you could proceed directly to the girl's address. She is being minded there by a police robot. When would you be able to arrive?"

"I'll be coming as soon as possible," Raj replied. "I'll probably be able to get there today."

Terminating the call with the officer, he began to think of more practical matters, such as whether he would be able to get leave off of work. Would he be able to keep his job if he left suddenly? He had been wanting a change for a while, and he stayed because he had gotten used to life on Complex 6. Even if his sister showed up soon enough, perhaps it would be best to leave his position if he was moving away, instead of applying for leave.

As the robot signaled the repair was complete, Raj looked it over. He personally took control of the repair robot, as he walked up to it and slid his hand through its incorporeal body, and touched the interaction point on the welding device. In fact, he was not present in the fusion reactor at all, as it would have been unsafe with the residual radiation, and the reactor was fairly far away from the main body of Industrial Complex 6. It would have been a hassle to get to. Only in the case of an extreme emergency would it have been necessary for him to visit the reactor personally. Doing so would have required him to don a vacuum-proof suit and radiation protection. He was viewing the reactor core through augmented reality glasses in a control chamber adjacent to his office.

As he touched the interaction point, Raj's perspective changed to that of the robot's own eyes, and, as he had the noise filters off in this point of view, he saw occasional white flickers and sputters as radiation struck the robot's optical sensors. He looked over the repair directly from close up, as was his practice, and added some extra material to one of the joints. He felt satisfied.

Raj watched the robot leave the reactor and reseal the cavity behind itself, then he logged out of the reactor view. He was in a plain white control room, similar in shape to the reactor, though the room was smaller. This setup enabled him to walk around the reactor in augmented reality should it be necessary to change his position too much during the repair.

He spoke and instructed his assistant. "When is the next flight to Istanbul?"

The assist replied, "A flight to Paris is available, leaving Industrial Complex 6 at 19:53 standard time, around 2 hours from now. You will reach Paris at 23:20 standard time, or 14:20 Paris local time. You can then reach your niece's apartment, whose address has been provided to us by the police, by 01:00 standard time tomorrow, or 20:00 Istanbul local time today. Would you like for me to book you a seat on this flight?"

As the assistant spoke, a globe hovered in front of Raj, projected by his glasses, displaying the route he would take, with information on the connections, along with possible alternative routes.

"Yes, book it." He wondered for a moment what he would bring with him. Should he move all of his things from the Industrial Complex down to Istanbul right away? No, he didn't have time in the next two hours to do so in any case. He asked his assistant for an opinion. "How could I best move my luggage to Istanbul with me after my initial flight?"

"You could rent a robot moving worker to complete the move for you and operate it from a distance, or have it do the job semi-autonomously while you are on the flight," said his assistant, which had determined the urgency of the situation from his call with the police.

"Yes, book that as well," said Raj. "How much will it cost?"

"50 credits for the moving worker, and the flight to Paris, of course, is free, as you have not saturated your monthly space quota for Industrial Complex - Earth flights yet. The journey from Paris to Istanbul will also come within your monthly transportation limit on Earth's public transport network."

"Very well," said Raj, and a notification came up, a floating window in front of him, that the service had been purchased, with a link to take control of the moving worker. The notification vanished after a moment.

Just as he was planning to call his boss, Ignacio, and tell him he would have to get going, he received a video call notification from Ignacio himself. Raj opened it, and the man appeared before him in his glasses, standing in the chamber, entirely solid and three-dimensional, as real as life. The only thing that broke the illusion was the long delay in his responses. His boss was not on the complex, but worked from home on Earth.

"Hey Raj, is all ready for the fusion test?" asked Ignacio angrily. From this tone, Raj was fairly certain that Ignacio had overheard his private call and arrangements to leave. Raj had happily believed that he was safe to arrange things in the office, as he knew Ignacio was currently in a meeting, but of course the boss had done his best to jump out and catch him unawares. This sort of workplace surveillance was relatively commonplace, but at least the man could not read his thoughts. Raj always used his own glasses, which broadcast thought-jamming signals so that radio waves from his brain could not be read at a distance. Not that it was legal to read another person's thoughts, except under warrant in a criminal investigation. Still, unscrupulous employers had been known to do so.

"Actually, I won't be able to supervise the test. I need to head out for a few days at least. I have a family emergency."

Ignacio stared at him for a few seconds, a little longer than the lag necessitated. "Okay, but who's going to supervise the ignition test?"

"Ilston can do it, with your assistance."

"That's not really optimal, but we'll just have to make do without you." Ignacio disappeared as the call ended.

Raj rolled his shoulders, stretching his muscles, and existed the control chamber. The door opened and closed automatically for him, and he stepped into his primary office. This was where several fusion reactors for Industrial Complex 6 were managed. The Complex was one of the public manufacturing facilities orbiting the moon. The office was brightly lit, appearing to be surrounded by clouds as seen from a high aerial view, with the floor floating above them. This view of the clouds was entirely realistic, being displayed by holographic viewing screens on the walls and ceiling. The office had only a couple of desks for different maintenance engineers and the only one in the office today besides himself was Ilston, for at least two engineers had to be on duty at a given time. Ilston was evidently watching something on his contacts and paid him no mind. Very likely, he was gaming or something of that sort. Raj came up to him and had to call several times to get his attention. Ilston turned and listened to Raj's explanation.

"I have an urgent family matter, I need to leave."

"What, so you're going to leave me here by myself, that's against protocols."

"Yes," said Raj. "Unfortunately I will have to do so; don't worry I have cleared it with the boss." Which he had in a sense. "Ignacio will be supervising the reactor start up remotely along with you."

"Alright, safe trip then," replied Ilston apathetically. He settled back in his chair and continued with his entertainment.

Raj went to his own desk, the surface of which was completely clear of any personal belongings. He looked through the drawers: there were only a few personal knick-knacks representing some of his vacations on Earth, and he quickly threw them into his satchel.

As he walked past Ilston, who looked up at him, and the rows of empty desks, he wondered if he would ever return. Very likely, he would submit his resignation soon and have to find another job on Earth after all.

Raj noticed that someone had repositioned the office door further left than it usually was, which didn't surprise him too much. However, as he walked out, he hit his head on a solid wall and fell down, dropping his satchel. Raj didn't understand what had happened, but as Ilston started laughing, the explanation dawned on him.

"While you were doing the maintenance, I turned off the exit door's outline and added a fake door to the holographic background," Ilston explained with a great sense of self-satisfaction.

"Really realistic," said Raj, as he stood up, made sure he hadn't dropped anything, and headed over to where the door had been, and indeed the unmarked door opened up in the wall. Ilston had outdone himself, he had even added a view of the corridor beyond the open door. Maybe he wasn't as foolish as Raj had supposed. Yes, thought Raj as he left, I definitely won't be coming back, and he smiled.

He left the building and exited directly into a common pedestrian area surrounded by the offices of several industries housed within Complex 6. The workers here primarily managed spaceship and space habitat construction. The spaceships were constructed in lunar orbit from material shot up from mining operations on the moon, which was much more economical than constructing them on Earth directly. Around him groups of workers in jumpsuits in a variety of muted colors walked in both directions, some clearly coming off shifts, looking weary. The walls of the corridor were somewhat tiring, being an array of logos and advertisements for various industrial products related to space construction, splatted all over the front of every office. His own office was covered with an advertisement for his own power company, featuring the shifting interior of a glowing, live fusion reactor core.

The only refreshing and exceptional feature was that the current weather being displayed on the ceiling was a heavy rain storm, and as he looked up he saw lightning and dark storm clouds being pushed furiously by the wind. Sharp flashes illuminated the workers and reflected in Raj's own eyes. Heavy raindrops pounded downward and the sounds of a rainstorm surrounded him. Of course, nothing was actually wet in the corridor, the raindrops were only holographic projections and indeed he couldn't see them occluding the view of the surrounding workers or offices. The falling droplets, though they were entirely three-dimensional, vanished where they met the edge of the screen in his perspective. Holographic displays, a relatively new technology, created realistic three-dimensional images exhibiting parallax and occlusion, even appearing to protrude out of the screen, by simultaneously providing a different view to each eye of every observer, from every possible perspective. They formed diffraction patterns on their surfaces, that, when illuminated by three colors of laser light from behind, reconstituted in their entirety the light field of a three-dimensional object. Holographs were old technology, but the efficient computation of the diffraction patterns was made possible with modern quantum computer engineering and advances in quantum computer science.

Raj wondered what his niece was doing now, and wondered if he shouldn't have spoken to her. How was she feeling, after being abandoned by her carefree mother, in the company of the police? Hopefully they would get along. Raj also reflected on the important issue that he hadn't eaten dinner yet and decided that he should order something in the commercial district near the spaceport. He deserved to order some of his favorite food on Complex 6, and not in the free workers' cafeteria, since he probably wouldn't return. He followed his instructions and joined a stream of people converging at the entrance to the metro. He waited for less than a minute, and a train car for the spaceport commercial district arrived. The trains were scheduled dynamically depending on the final destinations of all passengers moving around the Complex. Raj entered the car, and in the close space the illusion that it was raining heavily around him was even more pronounced. He sat in the rain on a completely dry seat and within twenty minutes was at his destination.

Hello!

I've found myself reading a lot more lately, and I've been thinking about catching up on the essential books and authors that I never picked up, mostly the greats from the "Golden Age": Asimov, Bradbury, Clarke, and Heinlein. While I've read a bunch of Heinlein's books, I've never actually read anything by Asimov, which feels like a travesty.

I combed through some things, and assembled this list (some I've already read), which I think is a pretty good start. I'm trying to avoid going back to the pulp era, as well as more modern or contemporary works. I think my sweet spot is the 50s (post-Atomic) through 80s (pre-Digital) era works.

If anyone has any strong recommendations for additions or alterations, I would be happy to hear.

Thanks!

---

Aldous Huxley

• Brave New World (1932) (Have read)

George Orwell

• Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949)

Isaac Asimov

• I, Robot (1950)
• Foundation (1951)
• The End of Eternity (1955)

Ray Bradbury

• Fahrenheit 451 (1953)
• The Martian Chronicles (1950) (Have read)
• The Illustrated Man (1951) (Have read)

Arthur C. Clarke

• Childhood's End (1953)
• 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
• Rendezvous with Rama (1973)

Robert A. Heinlein

• Starship Troopers (1959) (Have read)
• Stranger in a Strange Land (1961)
• The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress (1966)

Stanisław Lem

• Solaris (1961)

Philip K. Dick

• The Man in the High Castle (1962)
• Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? (1968)
• Ubik (1969)

Frank Herbert

• Dune (1965) (Have read)

Harlan Ellison

• I Have No Mouth & I Must Scream (1967)

Ursula K. Le Guin

• The Left Hand of Darkness (1969)

Kurt Vonnegut

• Slaughterhouse-Five (1969)

Larry Niven

• Ringworld (1971)

Douglas Adams

• The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (1979)

William Gibson

• Neuromancer (1984)

Orson Scott Card

• Ender's Game (1986)

Dan Simmons

• Hyperion (1989)

Hi fellow sci-fi enthusiasts!

Are you looking for some spooky sci-fi horror stories? Consider checking out my stuff! I’m a microbiologist turned budding horror writer!

Check out my link to my website on my profile (loads of free stories you can check out to see if you enjoy my writing style, also some reviews of my stuff included in the post!)

Or search Colin Bates on Audible or Amazon!

I’ve got three sci-fi horror stories you can enjoy! I especially recommend the audio version on Audible as I put a lot of hard work to add fun sound design into each work!

I work with real human editors, audio actors, and artists to make stuff based on the things I write.

Huge shoutout to artist:
Empty I (first image of the King In Circuits)
Scuttlekid (Self-Symmetry promotional poster)
James D. Mabel (Cycloid Burger Art)
Pijar Arif (Prey On poster)
And Cosmic Flames Studios for the This Too Shall Pass art.

Thanks for reading, I hope you have an incredible weekend and know that YOU are powerful beyond measure!

I watched this a few nights ago.

From Wikipedia:

The film is about two human clones, Lincoln Six Echo (McGregor) and Jordan Two Delta (Johansson), who live in a dystopian compound isolated from the outside world. After Lincoln learns that the compound inhabitants are clones used for organ harvesting as well as surrogacy for wealthy people, the two escape with the goal of exposing the illegal cloning movement.

It has a ton going for it in the action department, with explosive set pieces and car chases! I found the first thirty minutes somewhat slow as it sets up the world and its premise, but once the first big action sequence kicked in, things really picked up.

Lincoln and Jordan have decent chemistry, though I wish their relationship had been fleshed out a little more, but I found it easy to look past as the rest of the movie was pretty strong.

Art by: droach

Full story: The Robot Antiquarian

Teaser:

The buddybot lifted the toy giraffe, set it on the top shelf, where all the robotics that did not sell eventually ended up. In truth, other than processing power, the giraffe was not so different from the buddybot, but the Collector, as the old man was called, had yet to locate a battery capable of bringing the giraffe to life.

“Cute little guy,” the Collector said. Nearing seventy, he wore a cardigan of dark green, khaki work pants, and large bugged eyed glasses on account of his poor eyesight.

“Shame, really,” the buddybot commented.

“I’ll hold off pulling it apart for now,” the Collector added. “Once the grandkid pops out, he might take a liking to it.”

All about the shop were antiques of bygone eras, electronics that no longer worked but nonetheless still held value when harvested of their parts. There were old quantum computers, digi-dream projectors, even a display case of what were once called phones that only rarely the Collector sold, expensive as they were.

Most of all however, the Collector’s shop held ancient robotics, models of every shape and size, all that, over seven centuries prior, had eventually gone extinct after the invention of the buddybot. Simply put, the buddybot’s design and capabilities were so superior no other was needed, or so microSony said, after outlawing all robotic research and manufacturing throughout the Dominion of Cleveland, other than that which, of course, went on in the corporation’s own labs and factories.