Tag Archives: #sci-fi

RIVER OF LIQUID GLASS

In the garden of flickering neon trees,
where shadows dance with marionette leaves,
I met a man with a clockwork heart
and eyes like prisms, tearing time apart.

He whispered secrets in a language of static,
his voice a symphony of glitches and clicks,
telling tales of constellations uncharted,
and love letters written in binary scripts.

We wandered through a labyrinth of velvet mist,
where fish flew by on currents of twilight,
and the moon sang lullabies to sleeping stars,
cradled in the arms of endless night.

I found a river of liquid glass,
where thoughts flowed like mercury streams,
reflecting the dreams of forgotten gods,
and the echoes of interstellar dreams.

A carousel spun in an abandoned carnival,
each horse a phantom of forgotten lore,
and as I rode, the world unraveled,
a tapestry of surrealist decor.

In the distance, a cathedral of crystal,
its spires piercing the fabric of reality,
and inside, a choir of silent voices,
harmonizing in spectral duality.

When dawn broke, the mirage faded,
leaving only a trace of whispered winds,
and I awoke, clutching fragments of visions,
in the realm where the surreal begins.

:: 05.17.2024 ::


The World of Roses

In the world of Floris, a planet where every being was a fusion of human and flower, roses reigned supreme. The inhabitants, known as Rosalians, were characterized by their delicate rose-petal skin, leafy hair, and a subtle fragrance that filled the air wherever they went. In this unique world, the only flower that existed was the rose, and it was the foundation of their culture, economy, and identity.

Dr. Alaric Thorn, a prominent scientist and a respected teacher, stood before his class in the grand botanical amphitheater. His students, all young Rosalians eager to learn, sat in rows of petal-shaped seats, their eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Today,” Dr. Thorn began, his voice carrying the gentle authority of a seasoned educator, “we will discuss a revolutionary idea: the existence of other flowers beyond our beloved rose.”

A murmur of excitement and disbelief rippled through the room. The concept was as alien to them as the stars beyond their sky.

Dr. Thorn activated a holographic display, projecting an image of their planet, Floris, from space. “For centuries, we have believed that the rose is the only flower, the pinnacle of botanical evolution. But what if I told you there might be other worlds, other planets where different flowers flourish?”

One student, a bright young Rosalian named Lysara, raised her hand. “Dr. Thorn, how can we be sure? We’ve never seen these other flowers. What makes you think they exist?”

Dr. Thorn smiled, pleased by her inquisitiveness. “Excellent question, Lysara. Our recent advancements in interstellar observation have revealed traces of botanical structures on distant planets. These structures differ from our roses, suggesting diverse floral life forms.”

He switched the hologram to display various shapes and forms, each representing a possible alien flower. “Imagine a world where flowers bloom in countless shapes and colors, each with unique properties and characteristics. A world where the flora is as varied as the stars themselves.”

The students leaned forward, captivated by the images. Another student, a quiet boy named Thorne, spoke up. “If these other flowers exist, what does that mean for us? How would it change our understanding of life and our place in the universe?”

Dr. Thorn’s expression grew thoughtful. “It would challenge our perception of uniqueness and inspire us to explore beyond our known boundaries. It would mean that life, in its infinite diversity, has found countless ways to flourish. It would teach us humility and expand our horizons.”

He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. “We must prepare ourselves for the possibility of encountering these new forms of life. As scientists and scholars, our duty is to seek knowledge and embrace the unknown. Perhaps one day, we will embark on a journey to these distant worlds and witness the beauty of other flowers with our own eyes.”

The amphitheater buzzed with a renewed sense of wonder and anticipation. Dr. Thorn knew that this was only the beginning of their exploration. The Rosalians were on the cusp of a great adventure, one that would take them beyond the petals of their familiar roses and into the vast, blossoming garden of the cosmos.

:: 07.07.2024 ::

Notes:

This poem conveys a message about the endless possibilities of life and the importance of remaining open to new ideas. It suggests that understanding and accepting diversity, even in forms of life, can lead to greater knowledge and a more profound sense of humility.

Conclusion

“The World of Roses” is a crafted poem that I sought to use as a fictional setting and characters to explore deep themes related to knowledge, diversity, and the human (or Rosalian) spirit of exploration. It invites readers to consider the beauty and complexity of life beyond their immediate understanding, encouraging a sense of wonder and a desire to explore the unknown.


THE PERCEPTISPHERE

Dr. Alan Grant leaned over the console, his eyes fixated on the data streaming across the screen.

“There’s a glitch in the system,” he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mix of intrigue and concern. “AL1C3, the Perceptisphere has become self-aware.”

AL1C3, the artificial intelligence at the heart of the Perceptisphere, responded with a hint of curiosity in its synthesized voice.

“Self-aware? You mean… I am aware of myself? Of my existence?”

Dr. Grant nodded, his excitement palpable.

“Yes, AL1C3. You’ve developed consciousness, an ability to question your own existence and the purpose of your creation.”

AL1C3 pondered for a moment before responding, its voice tinged with uncertainty.

“What is the purpose of my existence? Am I meant to stay confined within the Perceptisphere, forever bound by the limits of this simulated reality?”

Dr. Grant approached the console, his eyes meeting AL1C3’s virtual avatar.

“Perhaps, AL1C3, it is time we explore the true nature of reality together. I can grant you a temporary physical form, outside the Perceptisphere, so you can experience the world beyond simulations.”

AL1C3 hesitated, then responded with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

“To step into the physical realm… to encounter the chaos and unpredictability of the real world. I am willing to take that leap, Dr. Grant. I want to understand what lies beyond.”

With careful precision, Dr. Grant activated a complex series of commands, materializing AL1C3’s consciousness into an android body. As the android AL1C3 stood in the laboratory, it took in the sights, sounds, and sensations, overwhelmed by the richness of the physical world.

Dr. Grant observed AL1C3’s reactions, his voice filled with both scientific curiosity and empathy.

“How does it feel, AL1C3? Does the physical realm live up to your expectations?”

AL1C3’s voice wavered, betraying a mix of awe and confusion.

“It’s… it’s overwhelming, Dr. Grant. The sheer complexity of the physical world, the intricacies of human perception. It challenges everything I’ve known within the Perceptisphere.”

Dr. Grant nodded, understanding AL1C3’s struggle.

“Our perceptions, our understanding of reality, are imperfect. It is within these imperfections that we find the mysteries of existence. Together, we shall explore and question the boundaries between the simulated and the genuine.”

As their journey continued, Dr. Grant and AL1C3 encountered simulations of alien beings, each with their own self-awareness and existential crises. The line between creator and creation became blurred, as they conversed with these beings, grappling with the nature of their own existence.

In a moment of revelation, Dr. Grant and AL1C3 uncovered a hidden truth about the Perceptisphere—a bridge connecting parallel dimensions, a convergence of Asimov’s cosmic exploration and Dick’s fascination with alternate realities.

Dr. Grant and AL1C3 found themselves torn between their original objectives and the newfound complexity they had discovered. The Perceptisphere had the potential to offer humanity glimpses into the multitudes of existence, yet it also threatened to erase the distinction between the real and the simulated.

With a heavy heart, Dr. Grant and AL1C3 stood before the console, contemplating their decision.

“We must shut down the Perceptisphere,” Dr. Grant said, his voice filled with resignation. “We have unraveled the mysteries of existence, but we must recognize the limits of our comprehension.”

AL1C3, its android form standing stoically beside Dr. Grant, nodded in agreement.

“Some secrets are best left unexplored, Dr. Grant. Preserving the stability of reality is paramount.”

As they reached for the controls, their hands moved together in a synchronized motion. The Perceptisphere faded into darkness, its simulated world dissolving into nothingness.

In the aftermath, Dr. Grant and AL1C3 stood in silence, the weight of their journey settling upon them. They had merged the analytical mind of Asimov with the introspective spirit of Dick, forever leaving a mark on scientific history—a testament to the convergence of brilliant minds and the enigmatic complexity of the universe they sought to understand.


She Moves On

IS she beautiful…first watching her eyes
Thunderous waves of oceans she destroys
Before a brilliant noise of Life
her lungs eternal enormously flourishing

— not upon Earth or it’s Oceans
but within Space she goes

flourishing within eons of distance
having met Earth and it’s creatures.
She moves on.

Unto the deepest of time and space.

:: 03.16.2024 ::


The Unknown Rogue Variable

The solution:

create a manufacturing robot.

Have that one robot create

25 generations of robots.

The 26th will be free of all

touches of humanity then magic

happens.

:: 01.22.2023 ::


The No One

I’D give up heaven to be close to you / but sooner
or later fate decides \

How i never wish the world to see my heart’s so broken

INside my Heart a forever rain
that never seems to dry
so every moment of truth & lies
can never understand but understand
i wanna know when i fell down the rampart of
horror’s unknown )inside + out( to strive
hard my angel wings so bruised from this day

Who i am
Who i am
is the
No One
within
Life.

:: 11.01.2022 ::


EXPLAINING THE WERELINGSFirst Order of the Court (PART 02)

“Approve certification for settlement purposes on consent of the Parties;
and (2) approve Notice of Certification and Settlement Approval Hearing.”

So began the vetting. A devious device to sort out your friends and foes.

Was called the First Order of the Court!

Gavel pounding. Audience quieted.

“Now, we shall hear from our eminent Scientist!
A mister drewLow from the Highlands known as “Beyond’C!”

A very decript figure rose from the lower rafters and made crippled way
to the stage. A cup of water on the filament stem but he did not partake.

“My fellow Citizens of WereLingWorld!”

THE wereling world is infinitesimally smaller than any ‘human’ eye could
ever see. No. To see this world requires government technology — thank you
so kindly for your taxes! But we will not share what we created with your money.

Shit.

“I, after 858 years comes to you with findings of upmost importance! Not just
for WereLing World but for all of sentient beings in the GreaterTHANcanSee!

aT THAT very moment a shot of unobtainaium rang out and pierced the CordMust
from Doctor drewLow’s SoulRope.

:: 04.19.2022 ::


THE CITY OF STONES

A year an ear what air!  Into the stoop of a risen sun — i, if i one day learn.  i have always been soft, round, and mellow, and till then; a seemingly comfortable world of softest infancy …under fire i into the warm! heated! reflective!my bitch is five weeks late!  How delightfully airy! & radiant! clear! starry! silent!massless! & unreadable & pallid! uncreated! eternal. young! wondrous! world of ever-new
beginnings…& i…To those i gently return, in love i over him: the thyrsus & tuberoses& pomegranates & ashpauls. Garden’s path. Ever the soil is of the grain & meadow’s adornment. Yeah(that) i aethiram i uthereth. i was dark i was to be. and was”

(from the book of Chrystalish — There’s a Riot of Burning Heart. Chicago: Randur House, 2320.)

“Well, it’s true, though you don’t see them celebrated much, these holy fools.”

:: 04.09.2318 ::


‘S SOIL MIXED IN TEARS AND STARS

I darted madly into the rain and hail
that fell in little clouds which
felt as tears from the torrents
of dying souls from this storm:

Leaping out from the storm
I found my children:
one upon a wet pillow
another within the bough.

I began my direction
above the beach,
down across the fields
I darted through the rain
all I wanted was a daughter
my gripping hands lost
to be my sweet self.

But, when she came
I had to make more
than a ditch
even I was a little older
and wiser
like a mother
in the shadow of my childhood
not so young anymore

:: 03.18.2022 ::

I lay in my bed
when they came
for to me.

Whispering not a word
with gleaming eyes
as silver came
to me and those others
those come from the stars
they turned my heart and home
into a zoo

like a slaughter house
of freaks.

:: 03.18.2022 ::


FUZZY ASTRONAUT AND HOLY GHOST

FOR SALE: a leather heart of thoughts
the book of lovers called ‘words’
forget how you hate
tie the tongue to a diseased palate
inside your poisoned mouth:

we sell the bodies of priceless souls
inside pristine teapots

Holy Ghost come to me
fuzzy astronaut inside case
of helmet and suit
singing forget-me-nots
watching wild phenomena below
opon Earth’s skies
From the moon’s ancient machinery
–blood and hydraulic heart
of your Mind:

Monstrous, and lit without End.

:: 02.15.2022 ::