

Murder By Silicon 4th September 2042, 1:44 PMMurder By Silicon by ~ben
The bar is small and rather empty, out of place amid the swirling holographs of the Green Line. I glance again at the entranceway, searching for whatever had caught my attention -- whatever had made me crane my neck outward instead of sitting as still as I have for the past couple of days -- but the unidentifiable something is gone.
The bench softens. I lean back and close my eyes and it molds itself against me, glows with synthetic warmth, massages until the tensions have worn themselves out of my neck and shoulders, and drains my credit account of $27.50; not that it matters. A few teenagers glance in my dir


Life -TM- The gun is silver. The barrel is green-black.Life -TM- by ~ben
Anderson smiles.
The bullet rushes toward me - an exploding gray circle from my head-on perspective - hits in a cloud of orange light, and far away my knees hit the floor and the room swirls to black and -
and -
And nothing. I float in empty space.
"Shit!" I cry. "There's no afterlife!"
* * *
"And then I woke up."
An eyebrow emerges from the visor. It is sleepily amused. "Oh? I was hoping for a thrilling conclusion."
Amy has - same as when I first met her - brown-blond hair, green eyes, a spray of almost invisible freckles about her nose and cheeks. The eyes are covered by a black


On the Division of Labor Alfred C. Méni's eyes, undimmed by the years, stared down at the scrap of paper his sweaty hands held, and slowly, slowly, a smile began to find itself among the folds of his face. Peters could see the thin lips part into an expectant grin, the creased lines stretch backwards and the eyebrows rise; and then, with a cry of absolute jubilation, the 80-year-old form of the world-famous physicist leapt two feet straight upwards onto the pressed leather chair and shouted, "Eureka!"On the Division of Labor by ~ben
"What is it?" Jolston Peters had been leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, but now he glanced up with a small amount of genuine curiosity accompanying his unive


TV Commercial Stationary shot of sunset over Salt Lake City; the camera pans slowly after a moment, the skyline goes by, and the shot comes to rest upon a surprisingly near Olympic flag. Pause. The only sound is the whistling wind.TV Commercial by ~ben
Announcer: This flag does not mark a city of glory, as it once did, but one of greed.
Rapid (two-second) zoom through city into mayoral office; movement changes to slow-motion; his feet are on the desk, he is smiling, and his phone is clutched precariously in his left hand. As the announcer begins to speak again, his smile fades.
During the past few months, a series of shocking discoveries has been unleashed upon an unsu


Ticket to Ride It was a cool summer.Ticket to Ride by ~ben
That was about all I could remember. Sure, the main events, the big trips, the vague outline of what I could write was there, tucked neatly away in the corners of my conscious mind, but that was it, all, the total. I needed the small stuff. I needed the details.
The comforting walls of my room should have relaxed me, but the deadline was still a weight on my mind. I struggled to recollect. My mind did not cooperate.
I could remember it being cool, though; it was at least a start. Cool. I could almost feel the breeze on my skin, touch the sun-filled air, but I needed more, a trigger, something to shuffle through
This is all great stuff.
--
Technoid.Ca