Tales From the World of Tomorrow!

(I fixed some disparities and added details not found in the other copies. Plus, its nice to have all of it in one place now. The book isn’t done yet, but I am still working through it.)

Chasers

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Tuesday was supposed to be just like any other day for Colton Asher. Wake up, brush teeth, go to work (9-5 at the local Shop Mart), come back home from work, watch TV, play video games, surf the web, go back to sleep was the routine. Some days he would mix it up and hang out with a few friends, maybe have a few drinks and meet a nice girl he could spend the night with, or even the next few days with if he was lucky.

But Tuesday, March 15, 2011 had something special up its sleeve for Colton.

On Tuesday, March 15, 2011 Colton Asher would die.

***

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I have an Idea, partly based off of a song I heard, another part based off of the internet medium and a third part based off of the Arab Spring. So I present to you a golden oppertunity to write, for free, a story for a collection I like to call…

1001 N1GHTS

A retelling of the classic tales of Scheherazade and Arabian folklore with a Cyberpunk twist. I’m going to be writing and editing this (along with my other projects) and You can too! Just leave me a message with your name and your tale.

Sticking close to the stories, but putting them in a cyberpun k setting, this collection is going to be the coolest thing ever. All it needs is your help.

Maybe if it gets finished we can publish it.

In fact, I’ve Created a whole new blog for it.

http://1001-n1ghts.tumblr.com/

“You gave it to yourself while you were falling, and then you showed yourself how to use it. I Imagine you’ll  remember the whole thing when it happens again. You should also probably get a separate accurate wristwatch or something.”

“Why?” Colton asked, still dazed by this interloping device he had found in his pocket.

“While 95 percent of what we do here is research and fact checking, the other 5 percent is precise timing. History is not written by winners or losers Colton, it is made by someone being in the right place, at the right time.”

***

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“So, how does this time travel business work?” Colton asked Desmond, after a moment to calm down from his near death experience.

“Well, as you have already noticed, your past and future selves can interact physically. Which took us forever to figure out. Funny story too, we had one guy accidentally run into a past version of himself at the office and they thought they were going to vanish, so both versions of himself went to say goodbye to Everyone.” Desmond replied. He and Colton were walking past the window repair crew on the eightieth floor, back to the orientation room.

“Wait a second,” Colton stopped walking to stare incredulously at Desmond. “Wouldn’t he remember that happening? Like future him?”

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Guide to Formatting

Today I got  an email from Asimov magazine. I was not the acceptance letter, but rather, the “sorry your story isn’t what we are looking for” letter. However, I learned a thing or two about formatting in the process.

June 28, 1914

Schiller’s Delicatessen was packed full of people, ordering sandwiches and drinking tea. Herman Schiller was hard at work, serving the patrons of his father’s deli. One particularly dour man had been their since 11o’clock, eating a his sandwich slowly. The sandwich appeared to be a ham on rye bread, with a thick slice of cheese (Herman couldn’t tell what kind at this distance) in the middle. The man wiped a bit of mustard off of his moustache and stared into his teacup with a expression of disappointment.

“Sir,” Herman interjected, “Would you like some more tea?”

“Hmm?” The dour man said, looking up at Herman. “Oh No, thank you, I’m just trying to divine my fortunes from the leaves left behind. It seems I have had a run of bad luck.”

“How so sir, if you don’t mind my asking.” Herman probed, wondering why someone could be so gloomy with such a well prepared sandwich.

“I… would rather not like to discuss it. Lets just say a business venture of mine failed spectacularly.”

“Oh. Well, perhaps your luck will change with a fresh pot of tea?”

“Perhaps, but I think not. However, a fresh pot of tea does sound nice, bring one round when you can.” The dour man said, with the slightest hint of a smile at Herman’s boyish enthusiasm.

Herman nodded and went back into the kitchen to fulfill his customer’s order. The Man continued to sit in sour contemplation over the day’s events. Mehmed and Vaso both failed to act, Čabrinović jumped into a five inch deep river and vomited up his cyanide pill, and then the motorcade passed by us too quickly for us to act; Cvjetko, Trifun and I. Čabrinović was a fool for throwing the bomb on top of the car, and his failure made worse by the mockery in which he was captured. We are a disgrace to our Serbian brothers. Ilić will be greatly disheartened by this news…

His train of thought, which was slowly rolling into self pity station, was interrupted by the clattering of his teacup against the saucer, as if a real train were passing by. A strange humming sound could be heard above the din of the crowd, as though a swarm of angry bees were trapped invisibly in the chair next to him. He stood up in shock as a man appeared there, dressed in garb that was very similar to his own, nearly identical in fact.

“Gavrilo Princip, I should like it very much if you would sit down. We need to have a very long chat.”

***

Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine

A Fine Publication that also accepts submissions from unpublished authors, such as myself and the viewers of this blog. Which brings us to the real point of this blog. It is a soundboard for story Ideas, a creative forum for writers to show their work off and have other scifi writers comment on it, make constructive critiques and generally learn new things about the craft.

Which Is why I beg you, please submit work here! I don’t want this to be a one man show. I want this to be a group effort. So what if you wrote it years ago back when you had hopes and dreams and Friday was pizza day, or so what if you think its rubbish, we don’t and we want to read it! so submit your work to tomorrow tales today!

***

‘Hmm’ Colton thought as the wind whistled past his ears, ‘So this is what falling feels like.’ He shut his eyes for a moment.

***

Desmond walked into an office area, where the hustle and bustle of a busy work day could be overheard. This was not your usual office however, as one rarely hears the phrase “Alternate chronological path” or “How is the Hitler Assassination Case going?” around the water cooler. Desmond continued his ambulation to a corner office, the door ajar. The sign on the door: Alexander Leopold III, in gold leaf. Desmond knocks on the door frame, and Leo looks up from his paperwork.

“How did he handle it?” he asks, peering over spectacles that are too small for his face.

“He… Jumped out the window on the eightieth floor.” Desmond said, after some hesitation.

Leo let out a huge belly laugh.

“Ahahaha! Oh, that’s a first.” He chuckled, wiping his eyes after removing the spectacles.

“I’m assembling a task force to work on the case, and I was wondering if you would supervise it.” Desmond asked hesitantly.

Leo took off his spectacles and stood up and looked out the window. Blimps were soaring across the skyline, dark clouds amidst a sea of white needles.

“Its your case my friend. I believe you can handle it to the best of your ability.

Desmond beamed

“Thank you sir!”

***

Colton opened his eyes again. The ground was now considerably closer and Colton began to suspect that something was amiss. Perhaps you wake up just before you hit the ground…

***

“Who were you planning on using on the task force?”

“Oh, the usual tech guys. I’ve got a pretty good team of Stringers ready to go.”

“You know what I mean, Who is making the Jump?”

***

Colton began to wonder (a brief action before the ground rose rapidly towards him and the people below seemed less like ants and more like action figures), What happens if you don’t wake up?

Then Colton began to scream. He Closed his eyes and braced for Impact

***

“I was thinking about using the new Guy.”

“Hahahaha that will give him a shock. It’s against company policy, but it should serve as a good training motivator for him.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on shocking him, that’s just how it happened.”

***

Desmond opened his eyes again, and could make out the individual paving slabs. Then suddenly he heard a ringing noise and the air around him started to Vibrate.

***

“I could hardly believe it with my own eyes but I saw it happen. He literally Caught himself.”

***

Next thing Colton knew he was staring into a mirror. Wait, no. Not a mirror. Colton was staring at Colton. And he looked pissed. And then he started to speak. What Colton colton heard was the rushing wind. If he actually heard what he told himself, it would have sounded like this:

“You are Fucking Stupid.”

The humming returned and suddenly Future Colton was gone. And so was the rapidly approaching ground. It was replaced with a view out of a smashed eightieth floor window.

Colton was alive.

I’ve beeen busy working a real job, and haven’t had the time to write scifi. Also my computer has been bothering me, what with it not having a battery that functions. Which really negates its usefulness as a portable computer. Hence no new scifi, but I am working on getting a better computer.

Broken Bride

Here we have another Blog, also writing about time travel, but this one is being written by andrew volpe, the lead singer of ludo. Check out his stuff, check out the band. You won’t be dissapointed. (This has been brought to you by LINK OF THE WEEK, where I link you to other scifi stuff.)