The long, slow, Mars-bound transit is steel corridors and dim lights, unwashed bodies and grim, silent faces. It is hope, desperation, and apathy all packed in together.

The roar of the engines tumbles memories into the now, merging dreams with reality. For those of us too poor for the inner chambers, speech is impossible, quashed by the sound and closeness.

But every part of you has a voice, speaks a moment. Your smile tells our wedding day; your shoulders, the lonely, crowded Earth.

Your eyes . . .

I can’t handle your eyes.

I put the photo away, wishing you were here, alive.

Author’s note: We’re always looking backwards, even if we think we want to start over. This one had its start thinking about those introspective moments, and where people might have them in the future.

Categories: Fiction, Stewart C Baker | 4 Comments »

They tore themselves out of the sky, the spiders, their silvery-sharp claws reflecting the glare of sunset, and screamed to the Earth in dizzying waves of super-heated steel.

I had built them decades ago – they were supposed to spread across the galaxy, finding life and assessing it, making sure it wasn’t a threat to humanity. Taking care of it if it was.

Of course nobody had believed me; all I ever got was mockery and scorn.

I didn’t bother with press releases when they returned: nobody would listen.

Besides, what would be the point? I’d built them to be unstoppable.

Author’s note: I don’t think it would be any surprise to find out that we’re our own worst enemy.

Categories: Fiction, Stewart C Baker | No Comments »