Science Fiction

Hue and The Discovery of Manipo. AI-Generated.
Live your life. I’m sure you’ve heard that phrase before. Maybe someone said it to you this morning. Maybe you’ve said it to yourself. It gets thrown around like a magic spell — short, familiar, worn smooth by a million tongues. Everyone has their own version: do what thou wilt, follow your heart, be who you want, live however you choose. A thousand tiny philosophies scattered like stars across the night sky, each one convinced it shines the brightest.
By Lorenzo Blandabout 9 hours ago in Chapters
The Last Heir of the Van Declaoria Bloodline - Chapter 8. AI-Generated.
The night inside the Van Declaoria Tower felt different. Quieter. But not calmer. Herlucia Van Declaoria stood near the long glass wall of the council chamber, watching the city of Arlein stretch endlessly beneath her.
By Luke Dreayryabout 20 hours ago in Chapters
Cassian-13: Chapters 2 & 3
Cassian-13: Chapter Links (Follow the story easily here) Chapter 2 High Dominion Calendar date: day 201 of the year 226
By Jean-François Lamothe2 days ago in Chapters
A Most Lethal Weapon - Chapter 2
Kira’s mornings always began with a soft chime that sounded more like a bird than an alarm. As the walls of her apartment shifted from their deep indigo night mode to a pale golden hue, she stretched lazily, her toes brushing the warm surface of the floor. It was a small luxury, the way everything in the Universal Growth Administration (UGA) seemed to adjust to your needs before you even realized them.
By C. Sinata3 days ago in Chapters
A Most Lethal Weapon - Chapter 1
Kira shifted in her seat, the smooth contours of the classroom pod conforming effortlessly to her posture. The Anthropological AI Studies Hall was designed with precision—soft, ambient lighting illuminated the rows of students, each sitting before holographic desks that displayed layers of interactive data. Behind their instructor, the translucent walls projected the bustling cityscape of the Universal Growth Administration (UGA), its gleaming towers reflecting a golden afternoon light.
By C. Sinata3 days ago in Chapters
The Descent
I awake to the sterile stillness of night on Mars. My prosthetic is irritating me, and I lean down to scratch it. I realise it’s my calf that’s itching around the titanium frame. Perhaps I should be happy I have sensation where previously there was none, but I only find it disturbing.
By N J Delmas3 days ago in Chapters
Tattoos and Rail Guns Chapter 20: Stairs and Treaties Are Negotiated
The Rochester-Fallon had not fared well during the cataclysm, a fact that Walker was beginning to appreciate. The lobby had been ransacked, with tiles and carpet shredded and destroyed and the desk itself was smashed. The elevators were definitely out, with doors broken down and cables hung down the shafts. This forced them to use the stairs, which were a ramshackle mess, with handrails barely hanging onto the walls and trash filling the stairwells. Given that the building was a hundred floors or so tall, they prepared for a slog.
By Jamais Jochim4 days ago in Chapters
Tattoos & Rail Guns Chapter 21: The Chaos Becomes Order
Kev grabbed a gargoyle and tossed it just outside the circle of dogs while kicking another. The third clawed him across the belly, leaving deep wounds. Kev hit the one he had kicked, stunning it. The one tossed outside jumped back into the fray. Kev's wounds began healing, but he would not be able to keep up with the damage for long.
By Jamais Jochim4 days ago in Chapters
Project Gleam
Maddox closed his eyes and listened intently as he sat alone in a room. The only sound he could hear was his thoughts and breathing. A blank holographic screen hovered in front of him.
By Jasmine Aguilar5 days ago in Chapters
The Day I Stopped Being Afraid
The Day I Stopped Being Afraid BY: Khan Fear had been my quiet shadow for as long as I could remember. It followed me into every room, every decision, every dream I almost dared to chase. Most people couldn’t see it, but I felt it constantly—like a whisper in my ear reminding me that I wasn’t brave enough, smart enough, or strong enough. For years, I listened to that whisper. I avoided risks. I stayed silent when I had something important to say. I chose comfort over opportunity. Whenever life presented a door, fear convinced me not to open it. “What if you fail?” it would ask. And that question alone was enough to stop me. One rainy afternoon, I was sitting by the window of a small café, watching people hurry through the streets. Some were laughing, some were arguing, and some simply walked with purpose. They all seemed so certain about where they were going. I wondered what that felt like. My coffee had gone cold, but I hadn’t noticed. My mind was busy replaying every opportunity I had let slip away. The job interview I never attended. The conversation I was too nervous to start. The dream I quietly buried because I thought it was unrealistic. It suddenly hit me that fear had stolen more from me than failure ever could. That realization felt heavier than anything I had experienced before. At that moment, something inside me shifted. I realized that the real danger in life wasn’t failing—it was never trying at all. Later that evening, I walked home through streets that looked different somehow, even though nothing had changed. The same buildings stood tall, the same cars rushed by, and the same cold wind brushed against my face. But inside me, something was different. For the first time, I asked myself a question I had never dared to consider before: “What if I’m stronger than my fear?” The thought was strange but powerful. The next morning, I did something small but terrifying—I spoke up during a meeting at work. Normally, I would have stayed quiet, letting others lead the conversation. But this time, my voice rose before my fear could stop it. My hands trembled slightly, and my heart raced. But I spoke anyway. To my surprise, people listened. No one laughed. No one dismissed me. In fact, a few of them nodded in agreement. It was a simple moment, but it felt like climbing a mountain. That day became a turning point. I began doing small things that once scared me—sharing my ideas, trying new experiences, and stepping outside the safe routines that had defined my life for so long. Each step felt uncomfortable at first, like learning how to walk again after years of standing still. But with every step, fear grew quieter. I realized something important during that time: fear doesn’t disappear overnight. It lingers, waiting for you to retreat back into safety. But courage isn’t the absence of fear. Courage is choosing to move forward despite it. Weeks passed, and life slowly opened in ways I hadn’t expected. Opportunities that once felt impossible started to appear. Conversations became easier. Decisions became clearer. The world hadn’t suddenly become less frightening. I had simply stopped letting fear control me. One evening, while walking home under a sky painted with shades of orange and purple, I paused and looked around. The city lights flickered to life, and people continued their endless journeys through the streets. For the first time, I didn’t feel like a spectator in my own life. I felt like a participant. That was the day I truly understood something powerful: Fear had never been the enemy. The real enemy was the belief that fear should decide my path. And the day I stopped letting it make my choices was the day my life finally began. Since then, fear still visits me from time to time. It still whispers its familiar warnings. But now, I answer back. I remind it that I’ve already faced it once before. And I survived. Because the truth is simple: The day I stopped being afraid wasn’t the day fear disappeared. It was the day I realized I was bigger than it.
By Khan 6 days ago in Chapters
I Never Meant to Fall for You
I Never Meant to Fall for You BY: Ubaid I never meant to fall for you. That was the plan from the very beginning. When we first met, you were just another person passing through my life. It was a rainy afternoon at the small coffee shop near my office. I had stopped there only to escape the storm, hoping for a quiet corner where I could finish some work. You walked in a few minutes later, shaking the rain from your jacket and smiling at the barista like you had known her for years. There was something strangely warm about that smile—something that made the gray afternoon feel a little brighter. But I didn’t think much about it. You noticed the empty chair across from me and asked politely, “Is this seat taken?” I shook my head. “No, go ahead.” That was supposed to be the end of it. Two strangers sharing a table because the café was crowded. Nothing more. But somehow, conversations have a way of starting when you least expect them. It began with small talk. The weather. The long lines at the coffee counter. Complaints about traffic. The usual things strangers say to pass the time. Yet the minutes kept turning into hours. You had this way of listening—really listening. Not the kind where someone waits for their turn to talk, but the kind where they truly care about what you're saying. I realized I was telling you things I rarely shared with anyone. About my dreams that felt too big. About the mistakes I wished I could erase. About the quiet fear of not knowing where life was heading. And you didn’t judge me. You just nodded, occasionally smiling, occasionally offering a thought that felt surprisingly honest. When the rain finally stopped, we both looked outside like people waking from a dream. “Well,” you said softly, “I guess the storm’s over.” I smiled. “Yeah… I guess it is.” We walked out together, said goodbye, and went our separate ways. At least that’s what should have happened. But life, as I later learned, has a strange sense of humor. A few days later, I saw you again. This time at the bookstore down the street. You were standing in the same aisle I loved most—the one filled with old novels and forgotten stories. You looked just as surprised as I felt. “Rainy day friend,” you said with a laugh. From that moment on, it felt like the universe kept placing us in the same spaces. Coffee shops. Bookstores. Parks. Even the subway once. Eventually, those coincidences turned into plans. We started meeting on purpose. At first, I told myself it was just friendship. You were easy to talk to, easy to laugh with. Being around you felt comfortable in a way that didn’t require effort. But feelings are quiet things. They grow slowly, like a seed you don’t even realize has been planted. I noticed the little things first. The way your eyes lit up when you talked about your favorite movies. The way you always remembered small details about my life. The way silence between us never felt awkward. One night, we were sitting by the river, watching the city lights ripple across the water. You were telling a story, something funny about your childhood, but I wasn’t really listening anymore. I was watching you. And that was the moment it hit me. A quiet, undeniable realization. I had fallen for you. It wasn’t dramatic. No fireworks. No sudden rush of music like in the movies. Just a simple thought that settled gently in my chest. This person matters more than they should. And that terrified me. Because I never meant for it to happen. I had built my life carefully, protecting my heart from the kind of vulnerability that love demands. Falling for someone meant risking everything—your peace, your certainty, even your sense of control. But feelings don’t ask permission. They arrive quietly, take root, and grow. One evening, as we were walking home, you suddenly stopped. “Can I ask you something?” you said. “Sure.” You looked at me with an expression I had never seen before—serious, almost nervous. “Do you ever feel like some people come into your life for a reason?” I laughed softly. “That sounds like something from a movie.” “Maybe,” you said. “But I think it’s true.” There was a pause between us, filled with unspoken words. And then you said it. “Meeting you… it changed something in me.” My heart skipped. Because I knew exactly what you meant. For a long moment, neither of us moved. Finally, I smiled and said the only honest thing I could. “I never meant to fall for you.” You smiled back, the same warm smile from that rainy afternoon. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Me neither.” But somehow, it was the best mistake we had ever made.
By Ubaid 6 days ago in Chapters
Brass Ring Interlude 5: The Importance of Being Earnest
Fleaboy jumped between buildings. He liked that Overton didn’t have any skyscrapers; it made his particular mode of travel that much easier. He liked the wind rushing through his hair; he had even designed his mask so that he could feel the wind as he jumped, and had to keep his hair at a very specific length (too long and it whipped in his face, too short and he missed the sensation). He flipped with every jump so he could see if someone was in trouble. Fortunately, today was mostly boring. Weird, considering the panic the capes community is in.
By Jamais Jochim6 days ago in Chapters