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Tag: sci-fi (Page 2 of 3)
Catch up on chapter 2 of “Eurosong protocol.“
The Voice Cage
Thom didn’t know what day it was anymore, but it had been at least a week since the suit. It hadn’t come off. It hadn’t even loosened.
He’d stopped trying to escape from it after the third day. With the collar locked in place and no zipper, it had been an exercise in futility. He showered in it. Slept in it. Woke up each morning to the same high-necked yellow gloss staring back at him from the bathroom mirror. When he dressed over it—SwedeTV-approved trousers and geometric pullovers—the suit made every layer sit too tight, too high. His skin no longer felt like skin. It felt like packaging.
And, of course, there was the bulge. Or what was left of it.
Continue readingCatch up on chapter 1 of “Eurosong protocol.“
The Measurement Room
The handler didn’t speak.
Nor had he the night before, when he delivered Thom to his new residence just past 23:00. He handed Thom a keycard without explanation and disappeared into the corridor like a shadow from a forgotten nightmare. This morning was no different. Tall, angular, and dressed in SwedeTV-standard black with white piping, he walked precisely five steps ahead of Thom, maintaining just enough distance to preempt conversation.
Thom had counted three right turns, one left, and then a ramp with no apparent descent before he gave up. The broadcaster’s headquarters were impossible to navigate—white on white, matte surfaces broken only by the occasional glowing icon pulsing on a wall panel. No signage, no windows. Even the lighting was unnatural.
Continue readingThe Winner
Tune in over the next several weeks as American folk singer Thom discovers what it really takes to represent Sweden on the biggest stage in Europe.
The carpet was too soft. Every step Thom took sank just slightly, like walking over memory foam. The corridor walls stretched too long and curved just enough that he couldn’t tell if they were leading him deeper or circling back. The production assistant hadn’t said a word since they’d left reception. The tall, expressionless man in a black polo shirt with the SwedeTV logo embroidered on his chest—no badge, no name—just pressed on.
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I’ve expanded My short story from 2023 into a full-length transformation epic. Read the first three chapters here.
Chapter 1: The Golden Ticket
I had been based out of Artemis Station for nearly a decade, working long-haul cargo routes to neglected outposts and failed experiments in galactic living. Six months to Vesta. Fourteen to New Rockall. The occasional ten-week jog to Hyperion. Interstellar freight isn’t glamorous, but the solitude suited me. The pay was steady. And when you’re in deep sleep for most of the journey, the years barely touch you.
Some guys can’t handle it—waking up decades older than their friends, missing birthdays, funerals, and civilizations. Me? I had nothing waiting for me planetside. No lovers, no obligations. I liked it that way.
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Want to see how this turns out? Buy “Welcome to PulseTown™” on Kindle for the rest of the story.
Chapter 1: The Contract
The old Prospect Bend VFW hall smelled like sawdust, sweat, and coffee gone stale in the pot. The scent was decades old—as permanent as the cracked linoleum floor and faded American flag pinned to the back wall.
The men gathered inside were tired. Not just from the heat—though the single oscillating fan in the corner wasn’t doing much to cool the high desert air. Not just from the years of hard labor—though their calloused hands, stooped shoulders, and sun-weathered faces spoke of decades spent working ranches, mending fences, and running businesses that stopped turning profits years ago.
No, they were tired because they had lost.
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In the brightly lit offices of the Bureau of Gay Cloning Compliance, Nate adjusted his tie. He stared at the blinking red notification on his holographic work tablet. It was another anomaly. Of course it was.
“Opposites attract,” he muttered, scrolling through the flagged file. “Not on my watch.”
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Read part 1 of “The 40th Year: Dads by Design” to get caught up before reading on…
On the edge of downtown, in a calm studio filled with the scent of essential oils, Tristan Green led a yoga class. The room was peaceful, with soft music playing in the background and a dozen students of all ages and sizes following Tristan’s lead. An expert yogi, Tristan moved gracefully through the poses, his voice calm and steady.
“Remember to breathe deeply and focus on your inner balance,” he instructed, his tone measured and soothing.
Tristan was a tall, lean man with a build that spoke to years of disciplined exercise and healthy living. His skin practically glowed. His brown hair was kept pulled into a tight bun on the crown of his head, and his green eyes reflected a calm intensity that inspired his students to excel. His personal style emphasized his commitment to comfort and wellness, wearing organic cotton yoga pants and a fitted tank top that showcased his toned physique. Around his neck, he wore a mala bead necklace, symbolizing his dedication to mindfulness and spirituality.
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Nestled between two lakes, Madison stood as a bastion of normalcy and order in a region otherwise dominated by overdeveloped urban sprawl. Unlike the towering chaos of Minneapolis, the relentless pace of Chicago, and or the cloying density of Milwaukee, Madison maintained a veneer of serenity, aided by installing MuniciPOL checkpoints at all major roadways and ports of entry. With MuniciPOL restricting access and tracking residents, the city avoided suffering the same fate as its midwestern neighbors. With neatly arranged buildings, lush parks, and tree-lined streets, Madison boasted controlled harmony under the ever-watchful eye of the state. Life was good in Madison, but it came at a cost.
Digital billboards displayed advertisements and state-mandated messages promoting unity and conformity. Citizens moved with a purpose, with clearly defined roles and meticulously planned futures. Madison’s infrastructure, from transport to housing to immaculate public spaces, reflected the state’s commitment to an orderly society.
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I sat alone in my dimly lit apartment, the neon glow of the city outside flickering through my windows like a dying pulse. My fingers hovered over my phone, scrolling for the millionth time through the last few messages I’d received from Josh. Like a lovesick teenager, I reread every romantic exchange, trying to figure out what I’d done to turn him off.
Three dates, countless laughs, and then nothing. He vanished as if he never existed. It wasn’t like we were living out in the frontier sectors, where drones patrolled the streets, government agents monitored every breath, and disappearances were common. Josh and I hit it off like I never had with anyone before. Or so I thought.
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