Challenge #02659-G102: Alexandria in Amber
A pre-shattering time capsule is found on Earth. In 2019, the time capsule was put into a cavern that was deliberately collapsed back in that prehistory era only to be opened, slowly, by centuries of erosion and earth shifts. Several teachers and historians carefully gathered text books, history books from around the world, old newspapers, maps, copied old scrolls, various sets of encyclopedias, bibles from as many cultures as possible, books on languages from around the world, to name but a few of what was in there. It was an incredible treasure trove of history. From the ancient histories, to the civil war, to the history of the various earth world wars, to things like the great depression to the modern era. The history books were from many nations and various cultures. And not just history books, but recipe books, people’s personal diaries and photos as well. The capsule being a hard, resilient plastic container filled with inert nitrogen to try to prevent oxidation of these assets.
And who found this treasure trove to start? A homeless, hungry, twelve year old who was exploring caverns and a havenworlder who had come to visit earth and gotten lost from the tour group. – Anon Guest
In the year 2525/ If man is still alive/ If woman can survive… – Terran song lyrics, pre-Shattering.
Sooner or later, time catches up with the speculation about an era that was once the distant future. Fantasy clashes with reality, and illusion shatters. The futurism of the past becomes the zeerust of the present and the erapunk of the future.
This is Earth, 2525. In recent years, the Galactic Alliance has not only made itself known to Earth, but also served a class action lawsuit on behalf of all the ‘garbage dump’ colonies that Earth set and forgot. This is Earth, after five centuries of getting rid of the undesired and the undesirable, the trouble element, and the problematic few. This is a stagnant backwater with an elite few clinging to wealth as a signifier of worth, causing those struggling in the middle to blame the poverty-stricken for all the problems caused by the wealthy.
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Challenge #02658-G101: Doing All They Can
The escape pod came down hard. The small crew of havenworlders, and the one human, now on an unfamiliar planet. The planet, itself, was more or less safe enough except for one tiny thing. The same explosion that had crippled the ship, caused by odd electrical storms the planet periodically suffered sending lightning sprites into the air, also had caused flash-burns across the human’s face, they couldn’t see. The medic cleaned the injury and wrapped bandage around the human’s face, but the human now made a request of his crewmates. For them to be his eyes, so everyone could get out of here alive. – DaniAndShali
“Good news is, we survived.” Human Kie liked to start with the good news. The great news, as far as the survivors were concerned, was that the Havenworlders among them had survived with minimal damages. Human Kie seemed to be well enough too… though something was wrong with the way they were interacting with the world.
Brii said, “What is the bad news?”
“The electrical storm and discharge messed my eyes up something chronic,” said Human Kie. “I’m effectively blind until further notice.” Humans used their eyes for most of their environment processing and subsequent interaction. “This is an unfamiliar, unsurveyed planet. Good news is that the scanners already said the most we have to worry about is the electrical storms and -uh- ball lightning.”
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Challenge #02656-G099: Holding On
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=gCQyKJr6pJA Aliens often forget the Power we can have, when we WANT to Hang on to something. – Anon Guest
[AN: Holy shit, that’s terrifying. Offensensitivity warning for fear of heights and physical injury]
“There’s only enough capacity in the lifeboat for seven. How do you plan on coming with us?”
The Ships’ Human, having fought to the last enemy, just grinned. “Outside,” said Human Karth. “I can hang on for long enough. Don’t worry about me.”
They forgot, as many Havenworlders do, that Humans were the origin of the phrase, To hang on like grim death. There was an argument about how long Human Karth’s livesuit could perform its primary task versus the length of time it would take to get to the nearest help.
Human Karth had a roll of ductape and a decent handle to grab onto. They were, as they described it, “Aces.”
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Challenge #02654-G097: A Surpassed Reminder
When we drink, we get drunk.
When we get drunk, we fall asleep.
When we fall asleep, we commit no sin.
When we commit no sin, we go to heaven.
So, let’s all get drunk, and go to heaven! – Anon Guest
This was a decorative plaque found in the ruins. Unremarkable, save for the fact that most of it was legible, and didn’t necessitate reconstruction. There were thousands like it. Almost one in every ruined home. Just like the ones with large lettering proclaiming the virtues, Live Laugh Love.
This was not a homogeneity graveworld, but rather one that went through a stage of homogeneity and therefore stagnation before the people had had enough and dove headfirst into diversity and difference like a small child entering an All You Can Eat candy store. This was an abandoned residential area that was abandoned and subsequently became archeology. Those digging there expected something of a snapshot of society in that time and place.
On one hand, it was fascinating. Rather like a train wreck was fascinating. On the other hand, it was horrifying in a remarkable resemblance to the previous simile. Thousands of carbon-copy homes with similar philosophies branded on the decorations they filled their private sanctuaries with. Identical plastic flamingoes and garden gnomes, identical plaques on the walls. Identical “one glass” portraits with a humorously gigantic wineglass, where the only difference was the woman holding the glass and whether or not there was a similarly enormous bottle of wine nearby.
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Challenge #02653-G096: Blandishments for the Bland
Anything else with CLARC?
(Sorry about the blast from the past. Slowly getting fully caught up.) – SilverRey
[AN: Nothing to apologise for. I love that you love the old stuff enough to deliver some inspiration. Hopefully you’re reading faster than a story a day ;) ]
Every fleet has its screw-ups, every force has its dead weight. They may also serve who stand and wait, but those who sit on their butts with a finger up an orifice are not doing anyone any good. When those forces had the limits of a planet, the dead weight could be expelled from the service, and given directions to the way out with a not-so-fond farewell.
In space, it’s another story. Forces cannot, for ethical reasons, give the dead weight a boot out of the airlock with a livesuit and all of their stuff. When funding is tied to the numbers of bodies in the force, even the butts at rest are useful in tipping a scale somewhere. Yet those same butts cannot be allowed near anything important. Therefore, they are sent to the area of least damage.
Allegedly welcome to Transit Station Eighty-Six. If you lived here, you’d be screwed by now. It’s a make-work station where the crew are pretty much permitted to do whatever they like so long as they don’t interfere with the automated systems. CLARC of course, is the exception to that rule.
[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for a link to the rest of this story, and details on how to support this artist. Or visit peakd (dot) com (slash at) internutter for the stories at their freshest]