Burst Fiction

death ↘↖

Forced Improvements

The last thing Commons saw before the concussion wave hit was code he’d been focussed on writing for the last several days. Then there was nothing but the high pitched ringing. The only sensation was horrific pain caused by the rebar which had entered the back of his neck, pierced his vertebrae & now protruded 3 feet from the front of his throat. His body tingled, like the pain from a sleeping limb waking but throughout every inch of his flesh.

Everything faded out.

Commons woke to florescents & digital beeping. A fuzzy figure floating over him rezzed in slowly, morphing into a very attractive pale woman’s face.

‘Hi there, I’m Dr. Slade. You’ve been out four days now. We had to rebuild your neck & amp up your torso to support the upgrades. It may feel weird at first but you can try standing now.’

He followed her directions, feeling an abnormal fluidity to his movements. He’d expected stiffness but his joints worked better than ever.

Then he saw his new neck in the mirror.

Just what he’d always wanted.

by E. T. Chevalier

12 April 2008 • cybernetics upgrades bombing enhancement death rebirth

Leaving Las Marsas

Robert slowly boarded the waiting transport, bandaged fingers struggling to grasp the worn hand railing as he struggled up the metal steps. Like everything else on this world, they were covered with a fine layer of red dust. In the air above he could see waves of it skittering through the air, filtering down through cracks in the doors above. Doors that tried unsuccessfully to keep the landscape from intruding into this stale world below.

Upon entering the conditioned air of the transport he was surprised to find it completely devoid of other passengers. Confused, he awkwardly turned to examine the tarmac, but no other transports filled the empty space. In the cockpit ahead, he suspiciously eyed the pilots just finishing their pre-flight check. With a smile, one motioned him to take a seat. Any seat.

The door closed behind him as he slid painfully into a window seat. Outside, he could see porters hefting the sealed coffin into the transport’s underbelly.

Robert never wanted to set foot on Mars again.

 by kwatz

12 April 2008 • mars death colonization dust