They’re Watching. They’re Watching.

        Not sure why I’m writing this. It’s not like anyone will ever read it. We could all be dead tomorrow if the Poachers change their minds.
        It was a warm day in October. Typical for Los Angeles, but then clouds started to form. They looked like those creepy caricatures guys draw on Venice beach. I was in high school during 3rd period gym class. The noise was the scariest, like a cackling thunder. Suddenly I couldn’t breath, no one could. The ships exhaust choked our atmosphere, but it cleared quickly. My friend, Bobby, tried to Google it on his phone… He typed “Aliens,” and ten links popped up instantly. They had struck around the world instantaneously.
        They took out a few cities: D.C., Berlin, Hong Kong. Los Angeles was left intact. I guess the Poachers liked watching television as much we did. I forgot who started the name “Poachers,” might have been the Daily Show? Which brings me to my next point. They didn’t wipe us out, or enslave us, really. They just left us “as is.” Except, randomly, Bobby, and his family were killed. It didn’t seem fair. Not like Bobby was gonna start the uprising, or anything. Oh, and they’ve been mining our soil for Silica. Why? The A.U., or Adjunct United, the new world government, didn’t tell us much. They claimed they didn’t know, since the Poachers had made their demands, and flew out of here just as quickly. Only leaving behind their osmosis machine for the Silica.
       “Do it, or else.” That was all they told us in the American sector. Three years later, and things just kind of keep going. People on TV still make jokes, so I guess there’s still hope. The A.U. promised we would all be relocated if the topsoil is left completely useless. Either way, the people of Planet Earth seem calm. I’m just not sure myself, but Dad tells me “it will work itself out in the end.”
       Anyways, writing my journal helps me. And maybe after I’m dead, there could be a revolution, and people will find my writing and be inspired. Hopefully they read English. Until then, I write, pen and paper, for myself, because they say, “They’re watching.”

~~Story and Photo by Ian Russell

Superman vs. The Zombie Apocalypse

        

        Today, I killed a man. The only human survivor I’ve found in three months. He was bit on the neck, and begging for mercy. There is no mercy. I’ve failed humanity, because I could not save them from the outbreak. Six months ago, I returned from a scouting mission on planet Clandut, and found myself orphan to my adopted race, yet to reach their potential.
        I’ve used my supervision to see all that binds the Universe, from quarks to the electromagnetic pull, but I couldn’t see this coming. Now I find myself decimating zombie hordes with a wink, using my ever so popular heat vision. Staying on Earth, I find myself forgetting what my father had taught me about “being human.” Still, I can’t leave, because Lois is alive. I’m not sure where, but I can hear calling for me…

Superman will return soon to fight more zombies.

~~Story by Ian Russell

trES-2b

       The light flickered red, lighting up the small cabin which was littered with an array of mechanical gadgets and industrial parts. He began to see the light through his eyelids before he realized where or even who he was; but he soon awoke to reality. It wasn’t much. In fact it was barely anything. He had built it himself and therefore knew every part. He had anticipated with quite exactness every spare part he would need on the journey, hence the mess that had saved him several times already. Grease and metal smelled like home and this was his home away from home.

        He leaned over and checked to see if the signal had moved. It hadn’t. From the viewpoint of open space he could now clearly see that his calculations were right…in the space between worlds there is a vast sea of darkness and in the folds of its shadow lies a dark sphere, the black planet.

~~ Photo and Story by Adames 2014

The Job

       JC stood under the red awning staring past the sheet of yellow acid rain… contemplating his plan. An Alp-Tier side stepped him, and regarded him with a leer of disdain. He wanted to punch the bastard. Not today though. He took a small case out of his inside pocket, and pressed his thumb on the lock plate. A thin wafer slid out of the contraption. After a deep breath, he placed the wafer on his tongue. It melted instantly.

        Five minutes later, while sitting next to a crinkled old Asian Lady on the graffiti covered mag-lev, the stuff hit him… HARD. His cornea expanded. His muscles tightened. His brain is kicked into over-drive. His senses grew brighter, stronger, more acute. He thought about what they might say when they find him absent at the factory, when they see his name in the papers tomorrow. Will they be shocked? Or have they always expected something like this? Would they call him a murderer or a saint? Either way, they will not forget his name: JC-2547m. They will not forget his actions. They will not forget him.

~~ Photo and Story by Xiao Niu

The Foraging

        It was doubtful I would survive. Even if I did, would Mother recognize me when I returned home? “The Foraging” was mandatory service for all members of the colony, and our only means of survival. Every three days brought a new cycle, and new set of Scavengers — that’s my job — who had been training to forage since the day they were born, would set out for life’s greatest mission. Mother was the one that called it “The Foraging.” She recalled so many times seeing Scavenger parties return as half the number from when they left. To me, It meant I had at least half a chance. I knew the dangers — the safety of the Colony relied on the fact that it was built underground — others warned that up above there were big, hairy creatures that could swallow us up by the dozen; grey stone earth where nothing grew and the sun made it so hot it could melt your feet; and there were “death” lakes filled with junk so bad, the fumes alone could kill with one breath. The most bizarre stories were of the Giants, as tall as the mountains, who some claimed had ruined the planet, forcing us to hide in the dark beneath the surface, severed from the Sun.

        The stories were more funny, than scary to me, and I had little interest in the needs of the Colony, but Mother needed my support — she was as helpless as she was willful. Otherwise, I would have already abandoned this place for a land above that I had yet to see. Long ago, The colony had become a prison for those it was built to protect. I was that rare breed born in the colony with a superior sense of doubt – doubt that the colony was all I had to live for. There had been others like me, before, who didn’t last very long, so I kept my subversive thoughts a secret, while walking amongst the dim-witted denizens. Either way, I was almost content with my life — Scavenger training had become routine, and I had managed well as the silent rebel, avoiding most Renderings, or weekly meetings to remind us why we loved the Colony — until the signal came in, “The scouts had found food! Underneath the Great Face that shines, perched high on the Tall Wall mountain.”

To Be Continued…

~~ Photo and Story by Ian Russell