Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'fiction science'.
DerGoG RD AUTO Message -3096: 1, Octobre 10:10(PM) 2077 - CAMBIAN-Dulles International Airport, Maryland, VA Main-Line USC - CAMBIAN - CITY/INTRA-SUBURBAN ‘Border Crust’ Territory. “Mommy, why are we here on Earth?” Pam was fighting her purse for its items. “To go on Holidays honey, I told you five times already.” Her mother then sat on the long imitation black leather Airbench facing toward the inside of the Airport. Rachael faced the outside, pressing her hands against the massive sheet of NeauGlass extending down the long Airhallway full of bustling people. She was looking at where the rows of the last DerGoG Jets would scramble before takeoff. DerGoG was the very last of commercial air flight in North America and the EU. This was the very last day of the very last planes people would pay money for. They’d fallen into a small lottery winning that offered ‘One Last Ride’ on the famous DerGoG line. It originally had been from a friend of theirs that couldn’t make it out of losing his wife to cancer that just happened to fall on that very week. He had given them the tickets, being a long time friend, the all expenses paid vacation courtesy of Bitzeri Inc. “Mommy...” “Yesss.” “Those are planes?” “Yes. The very last of them.” “What mom?” “Never mind sweetie. I just want to go somewhere before next year when...They’re grounding the planes indefinitely, it’s the Economy you know...” Rachael didn’t understand this part. Her mom had said it as if she were talking to herself. “What are those engines out there?” The statement made her mom wince. “Well-ah, sweetheart, you’re right, they’re engines. They make the plane go.” “Monstrous.” Rachael exclaimed. Rachael had been using that word a lot lately. It was her new favorite. She’d heard her father using it about something she could not quite remember. “What’s the plane made of?” “...Ah, well, um, metal I guess Rachael.” Her mom was still gazing at a women’s magazine. “No, I bet it’s CombI-Una material,” said Rachael. The Company Name was already familiar to her at that age. The tone had been endearing and yet...fanatical. “You might just be right, Rach, now I have your Monkey and your Kitty.” Pam leaned over to hand her daughter her two ‘Cutie-Toys.’ “How does it go mom!?” “Oh I don’t know Rachael, can we just concentrate on where we’re going?” Pause. “How far is the sun mommy?” “A million miles away sweetie,” she said dismissively, flicking to the next page. She’d remembered and said it the old way. Miles. Miles away. No. NO! “Light years mom, light years! Then we can start all over again.” In that instant, Pam knew what true Terror could be. Read More at: http://VesperHelioTropic.com