The Artist

From the right distance, the devastation looks suitably picturesque. The smoke lies like a vast steel-gray blanket, gently billowed and softened by the miles, over the city that now lies forever beyond purpose.

Jagged spires of tormented metal claw despairingly into the burning sky, black on red - the frozen death throes of a majestic leviathan in a blood-frothed sea.

The client is most satisfied with my latest delivery; his gratitude more valuable, in certain ways, than mere coin. Personally, I just feel that it is slovenly - degrading even - to carry out this job without due concern for the best aesthetics.

Thy Perfect Light

Shuddering horribly, the spaceliner launched from the doomed station and joined the mass exodus. Commander Haywood checked his ship's environmental systems. Every spare cubic meter was crammed with people; the air purifiers were redlining.

Ahead, wormhole openings flashed like blazing baubles. Behind, the sun's treacherous core continued its irreversible collapse. They had just minutes left before the supernova would consume the system.

As Haywood initiated the hyperspace sequence, he thought about the cataclysm's light that would, in time, shine throughout the galaxy. On what undiscovered worlds would it be heralded by infant civilisations as a beacon above their newborn saviours?

Hunt

It was a Thursday afternoon when the sun went out. The world was immediately plunged into darkness, although the street lights around Harper flicked on a moment later.

"Dammit!" he swore. It was quickly becoming cold, and Harper knew that much of the planet's life would die out in a matter of weeks. Of course, the star had actually extinguished eight minutes earlier - they were only just now seeing the effects.

Not that it mattered.

Harper gazed up at the night (day!) sky, and sighed wearily. Ten days of expensive simulation time wasted, and no closer to finding the bug.

Remembrance

The skullcap interface of the Time Machine is tight and cold; I try to relax and form the scene correctly in my mind. It had been a clear night, with the aerocity's buildings floating around us like incandescent bubbles. Emma, still giggly from the wine, nestled in my arm.

"That one!" She pointed, bouncing on her toes. "We'll live there."

The Machine's humming reaches a crescendo, then unexpectedly declines.

<< Error: worldline match failed. >>

<< Unable to locate spacetime event. >>

My last hope dies. I am left in the present with hazy nostalgia - that changes on each recollection - my only solace now.

Homecoming

“Promise me you’ll come back,” his wife had pleaded, “whatever it takes.”

Captain Baker studied the viewscreen image of the Celestia asteroid base. Over fifty thousand men, women and children called it home. The military called it ‘strategically vital to the war effort.’ 

At Baker’s terse command, the antimatter missiles were unleashed. Rock and flesh alike boiled into space as, briefly, the light of two suns burned in the system.

*   *   *

She ran forward as her husband – at last – walked through the door. He’d survived! But when she saw his eyes she stopped, for who had returned she did not know.