Every Ending

Needle prick. Anesthesia kicks in. You’re floating, light as a feather, then you fall back into your body. But not in this dream. You won’t wake up again.

Harsh hospital lights. There’s no capacity to sustain you. To build homes in this scorched world. You couldn’t afford them, not even before the natural disasters. Instead, one-square-meter pods in space—compact and cheap—for your brain. For all human brains. Other body parts are redundant.

We need to shrink. Reduce our footprint. The resources have been exhausted.

Before your eyes, the scalpel blurs. Remember that every ending is a new beginning.

From Guest Contributor Bettina Laszlo

The Great Screen

Hiro couldn’t stand it. Every day, the same routine of work, eat and sleep gnawed at his core like a termite. So one day, he lay down, refusing to work.

Though he eventually starved, news of his acquiescence spread throughout his country. Hiro’s fellow humans followed suit across the globe until soon, the entire species rejected the daily grind.

Without such toil, the collective energy - generated from human labor that had for eons fueled the great screen obscuring the viewing capacity of even the most powerful telescopes - dissipated.

Suddenly revealed, the entities beyond abandoned their observation of Earth.

From Guest Contributor S.F. Katz