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    Origins: Colliding Causalities
    Origins: Colliding Causalities
    Origins: Colliding Causalities
    Ebook109 pages1 hour

    Origins: Colliding Causalities

    By Third Flatiron Publishing

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    About this ebook

    They say there's a kernel of truth in every bit of outlandish lore. But when the heart of a thing has been lost, perhaps an archeological expedition is in order. You are free to join us, but time travel may be required.

    Third Flatiron Publishing presents "Origins: Colliding Causalities," a new anthology of science fiction stories by an international group of award-winning and emerging writers, who offer their speculative takes on the theme of origins. Contributors include James Beamon, T. A. Branom, Cathy Bryant, John Davies, Sarina Dorie, Janett L. Grady, Neil James Hudson, Ahimsa Kerp, L. Lambert Lawson, Larry Lefkowitz, Jordan Ashley Moore, Soham Saha, and Alex Shvartsman.

    Follow these gifted storytellers as they search for the origins of social repression, Gods and myths, Bigfoot, alien abductors, rational thought, androids, and, of course, dairy products.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherThird Flatiron Publishing
    Release dateNov 21, 2012
    ISBN9781301123155
    Origins: Colliding Causalities
    Author

    Third Flatiron Publishing

    Juli Rew is a former science writer/editor for the National Center for Atmospheric Research in Boulder, Colorado, and is a software engineer by training. She is a believer in the scientific evidence for global warming. She also publishes fantasy and science fiction stories by other authors at Third Flatiron Publishing.

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      Book preview

      Origins - Third Flatiron Publishing

      Origins: Colliding Causalities

      Third Flatiron Anthologies

      Volume 1, Winter 2012

      Published by Third Flatiron Publishing

      Juliana Rew, Editor

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2012 Third Flatiron Publishing

      Discover other titles by Third Flatiron at Smashwords.com:

      (1) Over the Brink: Tales of Environmental Disaster

      https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/163855

      (2) A High Shrill Thump: War Stories

      https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/218304

      (3) Universe Horribilis

      https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/288540

      (4) Playing with Fire

      https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/321325

      (5) Lost Worlds, Retraced

      https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/351622

      (6) Redshifted: Martian Stories

      https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/381618

      (7) Astronomical Odds

      https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/417022

      (8) Master Minds

      https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/446292

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

      *****~~~~~*****

      Table of Contents

      Of Men and Gods by T. A. Branom

      What the Meteor Meant by Neil James Hudson

      Hollow Man Dances by James Beamon

      How to Locate and Capture Time Travelers: A Memo by Alex Shvartsman

      At War Again by L. Lambert Lawson

      Seascape Zero by John Davies

      Question and Answer by Cathy Bryant

      The Beginning of All Things by Ahimsa Kerp

      Five Tips for Abducting a Human Without Being Caught, Draft One by Sarina Dorie

      The Missing Link by Janett L. Grady

      The Origin of Dairy Products by Larry Lefkowitz

      Carmilla's Mask by Jordan Ashley Moore

      Revelations by Soham Saha

      Photo and Art Credits

      *****~~~~~*****

      Of Men and Gods

      by T. A. Branom

      I look at the faces of the village elders. I try to explain to them what happened by drawing pictures in the dirt. One of them mutters bird in their language. I shake my head and sigh. It's useless. Frustration boils under my skin. But, what am I to do? I can only go on.

      I spill my memories out to my eager audience.

      Is the spacecraft ready yet? the president asked.

      The General hung his head. We can’t get off planet, sir. Even if we could, there's no place to go.

      The president bit his lip.

      However, sir, there is another option.

      The president's eyes widened.

      Come with me, sir.

      They scrambled to Air Force One. As I watched it take off, I thought, How stupid is that? It would be the last trip of the airplane, and their last trip aboard it.

      I point to my drawing.

      Bird, the old man exclaims.

      No, I say. Airplane.

      Of course, none of them understand.

      I rub my brow and attempt to relate my appearance on shore nearby. I point to myself, then to my plane, and I shake my head.

      I didn't get on Air Force One. I was ushered underground to a specially built bunker with two dozen others hell-bent on surviving. Not that it mattered much. Its walls were no match for the universe. Ripples shimmered like heat waves off a hot summer road and danced toward us, humming a call to join in the undulations, and then consuming us in their path. Burning hair stung my nostrils. I hoped it wasn't mine.

      Water forced cracks into the shelter, breaking through in surging waterfalls. That really threw me for a loop. There was no large body of water near the bunker. More ripples, and I found myself submerged. I hadn't a chance to gulp in a last breath. Stroking like a leaping frog, I struggled against the pain in my chest and lungs to reach the surface. I remember seeing someone beside me clawing upward, too, but whoever it was never popped out of the water. Well, at least not here, in this particular place.

      I sketch a stick figure in the dirt next to a makeshift shoreline with wavy lines to indicate water. Me. I point to myself. Quang.

      Aaahhhhh, the men around me wail. They remember me staggering over the beach.

      They all pat me with leathery brown hands and slide more golden offerings toward me. I sigh. Why me? Why here? Why this place? Why couldn't I have died? I already miss the convenience of modern technology.

      Now I'm stuck. I know my role. I know what I have to do. I read about it in my high school World History class.

      But why?

      Soon after the announcement that the God particle, the Higgs boson, was found, another discovery was made. A black hole within the Large Hadron Collider was captured and briefly maintained.

      First, science and technology magazines covered the finding. Then the word spread to news broadcasts. Details were too scientific for most of the public to follow. The fear was not. Although the scientists said the black hole disappeared too quickly to do any harm, the consensus was, if they did it once, they would do it again. . . and again. . . and again, until they achieved the results they so desperately sought.

      Which, of course, they did.

      Under the umbrella of human evolution, the black hole experiments graduated into the creation of a time tunnel, and a wormhole took its first steps in the name of space exploration. But, like the infancy of space travel itself, we humans went too far too fast. The wormhole was ready. We were not.

      The tunnel they manifested should have linked Earth to different places throughout the universe, but instead both ends were virtually in the same spot, with Earth smack in the middle, resulting in time—rather than distance—separating.

      And that's how I got to where I am. I assume others made it through. . . to alternate places, other whens. Artists, writers, politicians, military leaders. Men, women, children. Children. What will happen to children? I can only imagine where people landed and the effects they will have on the world they end up in and those they come across. Or, what the indigenous inhabitants will do to those of us who fall victim to them. Especially children.

      I hope to meet up with someone of my time one day. Maybe we can compare notes. Maybe I’ll find one of the children.

      The natives sputter more words and scrawl pictures next to mine. Our communication gap is slipping away rather quickly. Good thing, too, since stenciling in the soil can be quite time-consuming. I shouldn't complain, though. Time appears to be on my side.

      I know once I teach these natives what I need to, I'll move on. However, my story and knowledge will be passed on for generations. I won't change the people, per se, but I will affect how they proceed in life, the courses they take; their roads to the future. This is a fact; this is my burden.

      At night, as I close my eyes, I pray for dreams as a regular guy—a normal human being going to work, making a paycheck, and hoping to make some sort of change for the better in the world. But, I never hoped for anything like this. Now, all I have are replayed nightmares of my last days as a man facing death.

      Prayer is useless when those pleas are answerable solely by my own self-fulfillment.

      I sigh, and the village shaman whispers to his chief. They nod toward me. They're anxious for my story, so I brush the dirt drawings away to make way for more. My eyes meet with the chief's, and we lock into

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