Free Science Fiction Stories

I think trying to continue with The Futile Life is, er… futile.  So, unless there are any objections, I’ll stop adding to it for the time being.

If anyone likes it…. Speak up now or forever etc etc

All of a sudden the King was gasping for air. The guards retreated to save their master. The King was in trouble. He stood up and started pacing randomly, straining to breathe. Then he collapsed to the ground. His lips were blue and swollen.

The room was filled with silent horror. My god. It finally sunk in. John had heard about anaphylactic shock. The King was probably allergic to the chocolate. Maybe it contained traces of nuts.

The guards rushed to the King’s aid. They tried to revive him for a few minutes but it was futile. All eyes now stared accusingly at John.

Sh*t – why had he frozen? John knew he had to get out of there quickly! The panic button was his only chance given he hadn’t requested any heavy weapons. He pressed it. It needed ten seconds to work. Stupid technology! Couldn’t they make it any faster?

Ten…

The guards came rushing towards him.

Nine…

It wasn’t going to be fast enough. The armor on his body was little protection when his head was completely uncovered.

Eight…

Now he had weapons pointed at him. One guard lifted his weapon into striking position.

Seven…

John cried out “It wasn’t me! It was the food taster. Why did he not die? This is his witchcraft!”

The guards weren’t convinced… yet.

“I saw him!” John shouted, “He put poison on the food the King ate. Think about it. Why is he still alive and the King dead? They both ate the same food.”

Now they looked confused.

Five…

“I did no such thing!” the food taster shrieked. “He is a lier and a killer!”

Four…

“Just kill both of them!” someone shouted from the crowd. One of the guards motioned and the food taster was dragged towards the group of guards that were surrounding John. He was kicking and screaming “Let me go! I did nothing! Please….”.

Three…

“Both of you will confess now!” shouted the head guard, “or your will be tortured and burned alive.”

Two…

There was a frightening silence. Then it was quickly broken. A guard grabbed John by the throat and spat in his face. “You heard! Confess!”. At the same time, another guard slapped the food taster across his face. The food taster was crying - “No… It wasn’t me. Let me go! I want to go back to my family.”

One…

John disappeared from the scene in an instant.

The food taster would not be so lucky.

***

John was back in the time-holiday centre. He was handed a towel to wipe the saliva off his face.

“What a rush John! You were on the edge.” The time helper sounded excited. He was a good salesman.

“What have I done?” John said quietly to himself.

His helper patted him on the shoulder gently. He went into emphatic mode. “Don’t be so concerned. They were created far you-for your holiday. They mean nothing. It’s not as if they have lives to go to. Just enjoy the adrenaline pump.”

“What will happen to them now?” John asked.

“It depends.”

“On what?’

“Well, if there’s a demand for the contents that remain, they may be used again- “recycled”, if you like. Given that the history in that copy dimension has been altered irrevocably, it will probably attract hunters or other destructive kinds of holidays. It will be held for thirty more days and then, if no one likes it, it will be archived.

“What happens when it’s archived?”

“Now you’re asking too much. That’s a trade secret.”

John couldn’t help feeling uneasy with that response.

John offered the block of nicely sculptured chocolate. Everyone, including the King was confused. They didn’t seem to understand what it was. They just stared at it, some in disgust. The King began to look impatient.

In response, John pulled his hands back, took the chocolate in one hand and motioned it towards his mouth. He then rubbed his stomach with his other hand in a circular motion and smiled, making a “mmmm…” sound.

Now they understood. A man in the background was motioned forward. He moved slowly, unwillingly. It seemed as if he sensed impending doom.

John placed the chocolate in the man’s hand. The man broke a very small piece off. He moved it towards his face, grimacing and looking around, as if he was being willed to act by others in the room. All the time he was looking accusingly at John as if John had ruined his life. He sniffed at the piece of chocolate. All of a sudden, the grimace disappeared. He then inhaled the scent of the chocolate much more deeply, his eyes glazing over for a moment. This was the moment that John had been eagerly awaiting.

John had worked out by now that the man was a food taster. No wonder he had been so cautious. He was putting his life on the line. Who cares? He’s only a time copy. It’s not as if he had a real life or anything. He was there only for John – at John’s will. John wasn’t going to worry about every object (person) on his holiday. Strike that – every “copy” of every object here.

Finally the man took a very small bite. His eyes lit up. His eyebrows lifted. John could tell that he was in absolute ecstasy.

***

The King had seen his taster’s reaction and now seemed eager to have a taste himself. He motioned the smiling taster away as if he had become a nuisance. The King took a large greedy bite into the chocolate. His reaction was just as John had imagined. The King was delighted.

“What do you call this?” the King bellowed with his mouth full of chocolate, spitting a few droplets into the crowd.

John hesitated slightly. “Chocolate.” He said. It was an automatic response. It didn’t matter if he called it what it was. Of course, he had missed the opportunity to call it a name that gave him credit for it. But that would have been pointless given that this was only a copy of time and it wouldn’t make any difference in real history.

“Choclat?” the King echoed uncertainly.

“Cho..co…lat” John corrected.

The King was certainly enjoying the flavour. So much so that he chose to overlook the condescension in John’s voice.

“You must get me more of this,” the King said after a short but pleasant pause, “I will reward you handsomely. Where did you get it from?” The King’s real plan was to find out where to get it (or how to make it) and then find a way of executing this fine fellow. This substance was like gold and he couldn’t let any ordinary man control its supply. The King sensed great power and wealth in its control.

That was a very difficult question for John to answer. John hesitated. There was an uneasy silence, only broken by the King’s impatience. “Well, I am waiting for your answer and I have not much time.”

John was caught in an awkward paralysis. He didn’t have the faintest idea how to answer. He hadn’t anticipated that question and hadn’t therefore rehearsed any answer. Stupid!! It was so f*cking obvious. John was so f*cking smart but he couldn’t even anticipate such a fundamental human response!

The pressure was mounting. He didn’t have any more chocolate to give. He didn’t have a place to name, or a recipe to call out. Even if this just was a copy of time, he didn’t have an easy answer. What could he say? It’s from the future… You’re not real… I’ve come here on a holiday so that I can use you to get some excitement? [That sounds pretty suspect :)]

He became even more stuck as he began to realise that the King was sounding angrier by the moment.

“I see.” said the King in a very gruff tone. “You don’t want me to know. You want to have control of this and you want to keep it to yourself. You disrespect me in front of all of these people. If that is your intention, then you will…”

John finally found his voice. “But…” John tried to interrupt, but it was too late.

“… have to face the consequences.” The King had become bright red in the face. It was almost as if he had some kind of a rash. His lips were a little blue. It was probably the extremity of the emotion… or so John thought.

John’s heart sank and he became very worried.

“Guards!” the King called out confidently as he motioned his armed guards towards John. Despite the appearance of anger, the King was delighted (a fact that hadn’t escaped the food taster standing quietly in the background). This stupid greedy man had made it easier than ever. The King would torture the information out of him and have him killed soon after. It was great that there were so many witnesses. Again, the King has pressed all of the right buttons. His manipulation was perfect.

The guards approached John with their weapons drawn.

John moved along the procession, closer to his destination. He had only been fitted with light armor for this scenario. He wasn’t wearing any head gear. They said it would be okay. It was a first outing at fairly low risk. But – don’t forget the “panic” button. If he ever got into trouble he could hit the panic button. It would then only take ten seconds for him to return to “real” space-time.

Naturally, his armor was blended into the costume of the time. It was a little uncomfortable but they said he would get used to it soon enough.

It wasn’t going to be the most exciting adventure, but at least he didn’t expect any trouble, and he had lots more time for more risky and more frenzied adventures. Anyway, he still felt pretty…

(…nervous. The food taster was full of nerves. All he ever thought about, dreamed about… was food. More and more food… closer and closer to death. Food…FOOD… FOOD…POISON….DEATH.

He had developed a very keen eye for packages of food or herbs. He hadn’t seen any yet. Most of the gifts were pieces of silver or gold, but the day wasn’t over yet…)

… fired up and nervous at the same time. He had never done anything like this before. John was finally in a different world where he could forget about his day to day grind. He was focused entirely on…

(… their hands. Person after person approached His Majesty. The food taster’s heart skipped a beat every time he thought he saw food. What was that? Oh no – cold waves of dread…)

… the moment. Warm and tingly waves of nerves and elation enveloped John’s body. He…

(..felt a cold shudder… then suddenly warm relief… The many colors were only part of a sculpture. His Majesty was pleased… Blood pressure rising again in anticipation of…)

… was approaching the front of the line. John rehearsed in his mind what he had to do. Don’t forget…

(… the next gift. Oh no! What’s that? He couldn’t identify it. He had never seen anything like it. Don’t jump to conclusions. It’s probably another sculpture. Heart rate starting to rise…his ears blocked by the sound of his own thumping heart. A scream was trapped within the confines of his mind. He wanted to let it out. He had to SCREAM, but he couldn’t. He SCREAMED inside his head as the dark and relentless fear enveloped him.)

… the kneel and bow.  John was finally at the front of the line. He was almost too nervous to move, but the adrenaline kept him going as he was motioned forward towards the King.

[to be continued]

Why the hell did he have to live on the edge of a precipice? He was sick of it. Every day he had to wake up with the dark, rotten stench of death all around him. If only he could have the luxury of peace in his heart. He wanted to sleep soundly for once before his inevitable demise.

His Majesty was holding court today to receive gifts. There was a good chance that at least some of the gifts would be food, which of course meant that the food had to be tested. It was the food tester’s lot in life to die, but why did he have to face death again today?

And who would he be forced to die for anyway? His Majesty was so inconsistent. It was as if he wanted to be that way.

The image that he portrayed to the people was so different to the real man. He spoke of being a man of the people, the one they all loved. The word was that he was fair and just. His royal guard boasted that he was very approachable and had plenty of time for the common man. It was said in official manuscripts that his beloved people preferred him to all leaders that came before him.

He always spoke about the will of the people and freedom from oppression. He let the people gorge on the words that they hungered for. But who was the real man? It was very difficult to say. He never gave that away.

The food taster used to believe those things too. He was trapped by the deception. That was when he was one of the masses. He heard the speeches. He believed the words. HHe was so taken in that he wanted to die for the King.

Then he was lied to. Once he was caught in the sticky web of the King’s employ, he found out it was all a deception and he was treated like crap. He finally saw the dark, filthy underbelly. After that, he could hardly stand to even look in the direction of the King, but that didn’t change a thing. Whether he liked it or not, he was going to be forced to die in the King’s place. The King would live because he would die.

The King’s deception was so obvious to him at times that he wondered why the people didn’t see it. The King continually played with people for sport. That fat bast*d. He would rile up those who were weaker. He would prod them until they could no longer control their emotions. Then he would use their inevitable outburst as proof that they were committing treason. He would solemnly order that they be killed. But the food taster had caught the look in the King’s dead, piercing stare at one of the executions and he was shocked. That look had betrayed isHiHHishhhhhhis Majesty’s obvious delight. His Majesty’s obvious delight.

Today they were in an enormous hall in the palace. A very long line of people filled the space between the arrangements of royal guard. People in the line were waiting to please His fat Majesty.

The food taster [tester?] faced death again that day… or so he thought. Instead, in his version of reality something amazing was about to happen… and also something truly unexpected.

***

John waited in line. He was excited. This was a good thing. He wasn’t going to hurt or kill anyone. He was going to offer something truly special.

[to be continued....]

[Suddenly...]

***

… John was surrounded by them. He didn’t know what to do. He felt trapped. They were suffocating him.

Pushing against him… shoving him. Some were making deliberate contact. Vicious b*stards.

Voices shouted out at random.

“Don’t do it!”

“Don’t get sucked in!”

“You’re a murderer.”

“Time copies have rights too.”

One of them - a middle aged woman - looked him in the eye, her own green eyes wide and gleaming. He recognised the reflection of his unshaven, slightly wrinkled face in her pupils. “I know that you’re a good man. You don’t want to be like them, do you?” She pointed at the time holiday building. Her expression was scary and had the character of a fanatical kind of honesty. “We can help you. We can save you. “

She sounded like so many others that had promised him a black and white answer to a peaceful existence. The irony was that he himself had once been a religious fanatic. At the time, he thought it would solve all of his problems. Only it turned out that he was really looking for a father figure at the time - someone who would accept him and pay him some much needed attention. The “leader” had turned out to be that person, until he found out the hard way that all his “leader” wanted and accepted was undying belief and observance. It wasn’t at all about John and his feelings. That experience had jaded him. As far as John was concerned, all fanatics cared about was saving themselves with their beliefs and feelings of superiority.

The crowd was diverting him away from his destination. John’s knees began to wobble under the pressure of his very real fear. He didn’t feel very stable having to deal with his anxiety in the face of this raw aggression. How dare they? How dare they make him scared! Who the hell did they think they were, frightening him like that? The holidays were legal goddammit! They had no right, no basis, to impose themselves or their morals on… (him) everyone else.

He didn’t want to be saved. He wanted a holiday goddammit and he deserved it… Having to put up with all the sh*t he had to put up with. His job. His meaningless life. F*ck that!

“Get out of my way!” he shouted at them, his voice breaking in mid sentence like a teenager’s. He pushed through them… through the wall of protesters.

Given his tone, the protesters tried to make it as difficult for John as possible to get to the entrance of the time holiday centre. John was running on adrenaline. His face was cherry red. If he hadn’t been so angry and fed up with the world he wouldn’t have had the courage to do it. After all, he had heard of protesters murdering time holiday makers.

Just as he held on to that thought, John was faced with a chilling outburst from one of the protesters. “I’m going to kill you,” the woman whispered. It was the fanatic from before.

John pushed her out of his blushing, steaming face. The expression from his small brown eyes and grimacing mouth was determined. He continued onwards.

Once through the entrance he would find himself face to face with a leader of millions in a matter of hours.

[To be continued... duh!]

The soldiers had surrounded him. They circled hungrily, waiting for his next move. One of the soldiers - who looked to be in charge - licked his lips in anticipation as he pointed his machine gun at the target.

Suddenly the target exploded into an extremely bright light. Yellow as the sun, its rays plunged like daggers into their eyes. The soldiers were momentarily blinded. Their hands reached for their foreheads to cover their eyes… but.. before they could finish that action completely, red pellets of concentrated light streamed in unison at all angles from the bright light before them. Their pain was intense. They fell like dominoes. They didn’t have time to scream.

[pussies outnumbering the single target... let them die...]

***

The Sergent felt like he was in a dream. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. He was lying on the ground, his weapon still clutched tightly in his hands. He tried to say something but his throat was paralyzed.

He had had nightmares like this. In them he was always in the middle of a battlefield. The enemy was always surrounding him.

…

Looking at him.

Smiling.

Yellow crooked Teeth.

We’re going to kill you.

Not long now.

Better do something quick.

Oh, you can’t.

No pity for you.

Rifles lifting slowly to aiming position.

Slowly.

Wait for it.

He tried to get up.

Move damn it.

Move.

Get up.

Body felt like lead… too heavy to move.

Can’t get out of the way.

Bang.

He always felt insecure while the blood was rushing out of him. Then he would usually wake up in a sweat.

…

Not this time. It wasn’t a dream. He was the target this time.

The light had now disappeared from the so called “target” - the enemy. The enemy was a young man dressed in black with very short black hair. He smiled, but his teeth were white. He removed his protective eye wear. He kept his eyes on the one that was still alive… The Sergent.

The Sergent began to raise his gun. They stared at each other. The man began to raise his index finger.

It was a race to see who would shoot first.

The Sergent would have cried from the pressure if he could have. He strained to move.

Suddenly…

[Here is part one of the first story on this site]

John was so sick and tired of work that he was either going commit suicide or take a holiday. Since he couldn’t be bothered killing himself because of the effort that would take, he decided that a vacation would have to be the choice. But this would be no ordinary vacation. He needed to be set free of his troubles and get some exercise. He wanted excitement with absolutely no commitment. He wanted to be on the edge of what divides fantasy from reality and life from death. Sitting there daydreaming about being a hero finally brought a smile to his face. “I’ll do it,” he whispered to himself.

“What will you do?” a voice whispered back with a severe sarcastic tone.

John’s back arched upwards in fright. He almost stood up in his chair. The anguish contorted his face. “Sh*t!” he cried out in terror. It was his boss, standing right behind his chair.

His boss was angry as always. His pudgy face was red as blood and there was the usual amount of salty sweat on his forehead. His thick eyebrows crossed his beady brown lash-less eyes and his mouth twisted in a snarl. “I’ll tell you what you’ll do,” he screamed. “You’ll get me that paper in the next half an hour because I’ve got a very angry client on the phone whose deadline I have failed to meet. And why have I failed to do this?”. He was good at asking rhetorical questions. “Because of you… Again!”.

John was angry and scared at the same time. He was absolutely fed up with working with these f*cking sociopaths. But, on the other hand, he couldn’t survive without money and he was a pretty insecure person because of the crap he had to put with as a child. [Boo hoo. Childhood sucks for all of us pussy. Stop making excuses].

He felt like retorting with “Do the f*cking work yourself then… you money grubbing fat lazy f*ck.” Of course, he didn’t have the courage or the inclination to do that. “It’s under control Paul,” he replied with a shaky tone.

“Good. Then stop talking to yourself and finish it. I’ll expect it in the next fifteen minutes.”

Paul had waddled off just as quickly as he had appeared. That f*cking manipulative devil.

John tried to get back to his work but he just couldn’t concentrate. He needed a buzz - something to look forward to instead of the usual mundane bullsh*t that bored him silly. At the press of a button the holiday pamphlet appeared on his computer screen. He really liked the look of it.

 Time Holidays - Freedom Beyond Your Wildest Dreams

 It's simple.  You choose the time.

 We replicate it and place you right in the middle of the action.

 All of your dreams come true.

 Do whatever you want.  Meet and greet the Romans... or kill the Roman Legion*.

 The choice is up to you.

 Most up to date equipment is provided to ensure your safety**.

 Call us today.

 *Case 800537 says that killing or injuring a time clone is not illegal.

 ** Safety cannot be guaranteed.

It was all so exciting. John decided then and there to do it. He was going to book a time holiday.

Things were never going to be the same again. Ever.