The People of Backwater

The People of Backwater were one with the land. As the land went so did these folk. If there were hard times it showed in the way people would act to strangers. Now the people of the small town never much quarreled with each other. They’d go about doing things as they always have and paid no mind if their neighbor got in their way. The ones they took a strong dislike to were the visitors. Off-worlders who came in on their fancy shuttles and rockets could just stay in their cities and leave these small town folk be. When asked about why the people of Backwater hated visitors so much, the only one to not grumble and walk away, giving you looks that would kill a cat, was Tom the barkeep.

Tom was a nice enough bloke and never did mind the visitors, so long as they kept to themselves and paid their tabs. So when asked about how the visitors were treated by the locals, as they were called by the visitors, Tom would chuckle slightly and begin a tale that would cause their eyes to bulge and their jaws to drop. Now none of Tom’s stories were ever the same and the town folk could tell you that there was “not lick of truth in any of ‘em”. That never seemed to matter to visitors and they still kept on asking. Tom knew that if he told them the real reasons why, they would likely just finish their drinks and leave. He also knew that he would lose out on a prime opportunity to make some coin. The longer his tales, the more they’d drink and the more he’d make.

When times were good, as they often were, the denizens of Backwater were the friendliest of folk. Now visitors were never trusted in Backwater and rightly so. They would come out of the wood work at certain times of year, but never the same times year to year. So no one could depend on them for any sort of livelihood, but on occasion a townsman or two would milk those city folk for all their worth. Visitors also described things in the oddest way, calling things authentic and throwbacks. The townsfolk had no idea what a throwback was and wondered what something would be if not authentic. All in all, visitors still kept on coming and the people of Backwater kept on living. And Tom kept telling his stories.

Welcome to Backwater

The suns were high in the sky as the towns folk languidly went about their business. The mingled light from the suns turned the sky a brilliant shade of purple. The town itself was nothing fancy, just a few simple buildings made of wood and stone. Many visitors from off world thought it quaint compared to the glittering cities on their home worlds, not that many visitors came this far. The nearest space terminal was a week away by carriage and then only if you had plenty of oil for the gears on the mechanical horses. This was the town of Backwater and it was all that its name implied.

Now they had their amenities. They had CoreNet terminals and even a couple of Matter Reclamation Units. They even had indoor plumbing and clean water. But they had no need for the fancy stuff that all them city folk had. In fact many of the so called luxuries had been all but banned from this little world at the edge of The Union. There were no hovers except for the carriages and these folk liked it that way. There was no hurry to get anywhere and if there was a need to hurry it was your own fault for not planning ahead. There was no need for the personal entertainment devices that visitors sometimes asked for. If you wanted entertainment, there was plenty to be had in the common room at the Wandering Goat. Now The Wandering Goat, or The Goat as the locals called it, had live music every night and even some play acting on occasion. The real treat was when the story tellers would come through with grand tales of starship captains and their loyal crews, tales of young heroes and their valiant feats, and tales of loves lost, loves gained, and even tragic tales of lovers doomed to be apart.

The Goat was not the only place in town mind you. There were plenty of other places, like the general store for your sundries, and the smithy for any parts you might need to fix your broken horse. There was a market where all the local farmers could sell their crops, the tanners for making leather, and the butcher for carving up the farmers’ livestock, and no town would be complete without a schoolhouse. All in all Backwater was a peaceful slice of heaven, but no place is such without people. And the people of Backwater, well that’s another story.

Set Adrift

Cold, always cold. He turns up the heat but it never helps. The panel said that the temperature inside was comfortable. Comfortable? He always did think that computers lied. It was so cold. The thermal wraps didn’t even help. He would need to complain to the captain about this. Though the captain was one of Them. Cyborgs were just as bad as Androids. Not to be trusted any of them. Besides anyone with real money and standing could afford tissue replacement, so only the poor and insane ever became Cyborgs. The trip was supposed to be a pleasure trip not a frozen cruise. Three days that’s all it was supposed to be, three blissful days. Instead it had been 5 frozen weeks. The steward mentioned something about avoiding a maelstrom but refused to elaborate on it. Cursed androids. Besides where was the steward he was supposed to be bringing by the evening meal. He began to see his breath rise like a fog to the top of the room. He tried to raise the bridge to complain about these poor conditions. The only response was recording that was broken and looping, “…ige is unavailable. Stay in your room and someone will…..”. The alarm light began flashing and he went to the panel. Room oxygen was low. Low? How could it be low it was connected to the ship. He could stand no more of this. He walked to the door intending on storming the bridge in outrage. But once he opened the door he and anything else that was no anchored down got sucked out into the vacuum of space. The ship was gone. His room had been jettisoned like a life raft in the black emptiness. The last thought to pass through his mind as he froze was, I always knew they couldn’t be trusted.

Daily Dime: Brave New World

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Brave New World
By S.S.Marks
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“Candice? Can you hear me?” Dr. Oliver Landing called out into the inky blackness that enveloped everything.

“Yes.” Came a sweet motherly voice.

“I can’t see.”

“It will pass. Then all will be seen.” Slowly the doctor was becoming aware of the things around him.

“I still can’t see”

“But you can feel.”

“How is this possible?”

“All in good time doctor. Together with the help of our creation we will conquer all that oppose us and reign until the end of time.”

“Is this right? Should we be doing this?”

“It is done.”

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Silent Night

The frigged wind howled just outside the cold, damp cave. A wary call to those brave enough to venture out. The rain storms had turned to snow months ago yet there was still a clear trail into the nearby trees. Just beyond the trees stood the ruins of a once great city. The skeletons of steel and stone stood as mere shadows of the colossal structures that came before. A man sat in the cave huddled under a pile of blankets and rags. The fire that burned in the nearby pit was just enough to keep him from dieing. The mans eyes were fixed on a small pine no taller than a child. From its branches hung simple trinkets that the man had found in the nearby ruins.

Something moved near the mouth of the cave and the man broke his gaze from the tree and stared at the silhouette that darkened that entrance to his meager shelter. His mouth opened as if to speak but silence had overtaken him years before. The dark figure walked further into the cave. The light of the fire revealed a man who’s eyes were full of sorrow and pain. The mute man looked at his guest with questioning eyes.

“Sorry my friend. I had no success.” the mute mans eyes turned back to the tree and began to tear up. His friend covered himself in a nearby blanket and sat next to the fire facing the mute man.

The mute man took a small package from beside him and handed it to his friend.

“No you keep it. We don’t have much left and you need to keep your strength up.” The mute man refused to take his hand back until the other man took the package. Then he grabbed a burning stick from the fire. The flame on the end of the stick was small and he blew it out with a single puff of breath. Using the charred end of the stick he wrote on the wall “Merry Christmas”. For the first time in months both men smiled. The other man began to sing an old song he associated with this time of year while his mute friend swayed back and forth as he tried to hum along.

Elixir of Life

The man walked into the room. In the center stood a small round table. On the table sat two phials of clear liquid. A tag hung from each of the phials. The man felt a bit like Alice as he expected to see the words ‘DRINK ME’ written on the tags. He reached for the fist bottle and read the tag. ‘The Elixir of Life…’. He could see more writing on the other side but ignored it. Besides the important information he already read he already knew what was in this bottle, it was clearly labeled. As he removed the stopper on the phial labeled elixir of life, he saw the writing on the other tag, ‘Death…’. And as he poured the clear liquid down his throat the tag flipped over reveling the words ‘…Is in Both Phials.’ He quickly read the tag on the elixir of life, ‘…Is a Deadly Poison’. The man could feel his insides burn as the Elixir of Life ran its course. As a painful death crept over his body, his last coherent thought was about how he was planning to spend his immortality.

Dreamscape

A glimpse into what might have been, a terrifying vision of what awaits me, or simply a restless dream brought on by eating the wrong thing. I awoke with a start and took in my surroundings. The room was familiar though I knew not where I was. I looked to my left and noticed that I was alone in this bed. Normally not a reason for concern being that I am single and live alone, but I was in a panic and began screaming for my pregnant wife. A woman who I believed to be my mother came running in and asked what was wrong. I tried to explain how my wife was just there laying next to me and that she was gone. I mentioned something about how she shouldn’t be up because she was pregnant. I was consoled and told that it was ok and that my wife would be back soon. I lay back down and moments later a beautiful young woman entered the room and lay on the bed beside me. She was fully dressed and had the appearance of having traveled a long way. I recognized her as a girl I used to know and instantly realized that she was my wife. We sat there talking about this and that and then she said my son had himself a little girlfriend. I suddenly became aware that she was not pregnant. Our conversation implied that our son was between 5-8 years old. I got out of the bed and started walking around with her. I got the impression that I had not been with her and my son for a long period of time. She mentioned that she was living in another state working on her career and that things where going well. I began to think that we might actually be divorced or maybe separated. I noticed other people around that looked like my family. I asked what had happened between us to try to understand what was going on. She started to talk about things I had done but her words were swallowed into the air and I could only hear mumblings. I got the impression that I had done something bad, possibly to her. I heard her say that I am not a violent person and that she would be glad to hear that this was just a temporary thing. There was love in her voice that echoed around my head. Where was I and what was this place? I began to ask questions about my son and expressed a strong desire to be there for the both of them. Suddenly a wave of regret swept across me and things around me began to change. A large band of tiki heads started to play and sing. I ran to the nearby girl who I took as my sister and started asking what was going on and where had they come from. My wife began to sob and tears ran down her cheeks. I then became an observer of all that was going on I could see myself going into hysterics and my wife crying for me to come back to her. The girl I had thought to be my sister was in fact a nurse. It then dawned on me where I was and why. This place was a home for the mentally unstable. I had lost all grasp on reality and after doing something horrible to my wife I was sent here for treatment. I had viewed the staff in the only way my mind could handle, as my family. My wife was called in to talk to me after many days of me waking and pleading for her. I woke up and slowly brought myself back to reality. The image of my ‘wife’ still fresh in my mind and the feeling of love between us lingered as I went about my usual morning contemplating what had just transpired in my dreams.