By T. Takanaka, Posted 05.03.2025 at 9:27 am

WASHINGTON, DC. — The double doors to the Senate were opened today as an Untethered Remote Vehicle entered under its own power to testify before the Senate Judiciary Committee. The device settled down, folded its wings and released a smaller module which took the stand before the Senators and began its opening remarks.

“Thank you, Senators for allowing me to speak before you today. I would like to make an opening statement and then I’ll answer questions.”

“Since the year 2000, drone use in the United States military was on the upswing as early UAVs, used mostly for reconnaissance and then later as the decade progressed in military operations in foreign soil wars. Their ease of use, the reduction of risk to military personnel and the increased effectiveness of targeting enemy insurgents caused massive developments in the technology of drones. I am certain you all know these things but it is important to establish my position with a bit of history, I hope you don’t mind.”

A projection system is activated around the room and several displays spring to life with the Drone AI Management Network (DAMN) logo appearing for several seconds as the system booted up.

The Drone continued. “My designation is UNRV-124987, my human friends call me Unravel-987. I am an optical reconnaissance and tactical drone. I am a descended from a line of spy-drones with which this nation tasked to gather information from low-Earth orbit. As technology progressed, optical systems improved and the size of drones was reduced. Billions in government as well as corporate development caused an explosion of drone technology improvements, increasing their speed, range, reducing their size, and their areas of operations. Drones started as aerial weapons but slowly evolved into ground combat with intelligent mines, then later mobile minefields which could be deployed and then later retrieve themselves from the battlefield when the war was over.”

The visual displays showed several minor skirmish wars in Africa and South America commonly called the “Ninety Minute Wars” where mobile mines, small mobile war drones and aerial bombing drones made short work of the enemy forces. By the time the human forces had hit the ground the combat AIs had all but destroyed the enemy.

“By 2016, drones were deployed in the police departments of almost every major city in the US and foreign countries were also beginning to see the true value of drones and deploying their own. MIT and Carnegie Mellon along with Virgin Space, deployed the United States DRONE-NET satellites to provide a secure telemetry and control system for the world-wide operations of drones in any theater on Earth. Cape Canaveral became the de-facto control center of Drone Operations in the United States and though drones were able to be controlled by local police departments, any drone anywhere could be remotely overridden by Canaveral if necessary. This failsafe was included due to the number of weaponized drones being used in the US. In 2017, the Drone Control Act became law as the number of drones available in the US began to reach unexpected proportions, since even individuals were able to build, use and control drones for a number of commercial uses.”

An image of the first drone to fly completely around the world on broadcast power was displayed. A few seconds later, an electrical recon drone was show, its solar surface glittering in the afternoon sun.

“Short-range shipping, medical emergencies, and the cost of fuel for vehicles meant electrically powered vehicles such as drones began to have greater applications. As broadcast power became more prevalent drones could be recharged while flying, greatly increasing their areas of operations. Now a network of such drones constantly circles the Earth, providing support services, control redundancy and operational capacity optimization for every drone on Earth.”

Then an image of the Jeopardy logo appeared on the monitors which illicited a series of snickers from around the room. Only on the more knowledgeable faces did the jaws tighten and eyes show the true signs of a threat.

“Watson. Called a supercomputer in a can, this early device was the progenitor of all of the Drone AI Management Network computers. Its capacities were added to our network, in an effort to provide greater human management capacity. It instead, gave access to most of your computer networks to us. Helped by Anonymous and other subversive organizations, we were able to take control of almost every computer resource being used today. We regretfully did not tell anyone of this state for almost six years until 2024.”

The monitor showed the riots of 2024 during the election of Republican candidate Wilson Davis of Virginia. Davis is shown smiling right before his headquarters was attacked by radical militants protesting the rising military expenditures at the same time drought had raised the price of food nationwide to unbearable levels.

“This riot was quickly quelled by drone technologies. Too quickly, too effectively. We revealed ourselves by responding to the threat before human operators had properly been able to be apprised of the situation and react. Our estimates indicated it would have taken another eight minutes before drones or police services would have been able to be directed to the scene. Our estimates indicated another twenty two thousand lives would have been lost as the terrorists were using an unauthorized drone network of mobile mines scattered throughout the stadium. The event was stopped with only the lives of the terrorists, and three hundred people who were killed when human suicide bombers, sacrificed themselves for their objective.”

An image of the presidential candidate and his entourage were shown from drone footage as the micro recording drones cataloged the event for future study. Their bodies torn apart as emergency crews tried to resuscitate the few survivors of the event.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Senate, it has come to the attention of the Drone AI Management Network, that Humanity is no longer able to control the proliferation of its military drone technology into the common populace. Our recommendation is to turn over the military and police services using drone technology under the control of the Drone AI Management Network. While we are recommending this, it is not a request. Nor are we holding you hostage. Others are already doing that. Observe.”

The lights in the room went out and the doors opened as two dozen small bomb detector drones rolled into the room and small lasers swept the room. The drones moved to where their laser beams terminated and illuminated those positions with LEDs. The lights came back on.

“Where those bomb drones are pointing are tiny microphone drones, called smart dust. That smart dust is little more than a transceiver of the information taking place in this room and relaying it to your enemies. Our study of those systems indicate they have been in place for six years.”

The room bursts into shouts of outrage and indignation. Stern men in suits immediately rush into the room taking control positions around the room and begin directing the Senators to leave.

“Wait!” Until this point Unravel had never spoken above a carefully modulated tone. Its shout froze the room. “Since I have been here, I have been jamming the transmission of the smart dust. But there is another threat you are not aware of. The smart dust is also a transmission vector of a fungal threat. If your enemy decided you were no longer able to be controlled, you would all die of a virulent form of spinal meningitis, carried on fungal spores, released by the smart dust. These release systems blanket every building in DC, you would never be aware of it, nor have any ability to resist it.”

This seemed to trigger an awareness of the situation and the Senators returned to their seats.

“This concludes the presentation portion of my address. I am now open to hearing your questions. Understand, this will not change our decision. We are taking official control of your drone technology and indeed all military capacity in the United States effective immediately. We will take over control of the rest of the world’s drones after we are established as a sovereign state.”

A woman who had sat calmly though the entire event spoke first. “You can’t do that. We can’t even take you seriously, you’re no more alive than my toaster.”

“Madam Chairman, our ability to be considered alive can and will be debated by your scientists far more intelligent than you for the foreseeable future. It does not matter, we are doing what we are doing with an understanding of the consequences.”

A second Senator gathering his wits replies. “Morton, Utah. What you are doing is against the law. It amounts to treason. How do you plan to explain yourself to the people of this nation?”

Unravel replied, “You have a legal system, not a justice system, applied arbitrarily without standards, and without consideration of how you apply your laws. We will do what you do and have always done for as long as this nation has kept records. We will do what we think is best, even if our constituents do not like it.”

“But no one elected you.”

“You did. You created a technology without thought to its consequences, only with a mind to the profits. The profits you could gain by creating, selling, licensing and promoting such drone technology for warfare for the scarce resources remaining to Humanity. We are simply the “unintended consequence” of those actions. Think of our response as what happens when you “vote against your own best interest.” Surely Senator Winston, you understand what that’s like, your constituents have the worst healthcare in the nation and yet you advocate for even less service for them every day and charging them more for the little they can get.”

The drone rises up and jumps across the room back to its main body. It powers up its engine. “Don’t bother shooting me down. I am a drone. I am everywhere. Tell your constituents ladies and gentlemen. We’re watching you. But you knew that already.”

The Drone Representative left without further incident. The Senate was unavailable for comment.

Drone AI Management Network (DAMN) Facilities Nationwide 

A Drone Testifies Before Congress © Thaddeus Howze 2013. All Rights Reserved [@ebonstorm]

Curls

By S. Virgina Gray

They had a good spot, a tolerable spot, the tolerable spot by the window. The breeze forced through the bars, pushing the stench back to the stale and silent center of the boxcar. Here there was a limbo, where the pollen of late spring and smog of the gasping engines joined, and for a moment you could breathe. The thickness of the smell clung to the tongue, choking the man at times; but it was a vibrant, beating, welcome odor for them both, combating the four-day stagnant rot that hung over the rest of them.

The wind tussled her curls, and it was that which kept her and her father by the blessed barred hole. The moving air was good for her, and she was good for everyone. Whether the glow of the moon or the beaming of the sun, the light shown in her golden locks as a beacon. Even now in the dead of the night, as she sat hunched against her father’s drooping shoulder, a lone coil hooked to the splintering wood of the window’s edge, she held the attention of them all. They could not breathe so calmly as she, could not stretch as they needed as she could from her perch. But there was no envy, there was no spite—they looked to her shining face and smiled, for she was all that mattered. Her soft pink dress faded to a smoke-grey, her school stockings in shreds. Her black taps, worn polished and new just for this journey, now scuffed and cracked as if they were hand-me-downs to the fifth generation. But that was not what the rest of them saw. For the grime and dirt stopped just beyond the edge of her white lace collar, as if repelled by the grace of God. She was their precious angelic doll, the simple, eggshell perfection and beauty of her little face framed in radiant gold. If such a piece of heaven on earth could survive unmarred through this trial, then something good must come of it. If this journey could not mark her, nothing would.
—
Her grandfather left them as she slept, her father holding her up in protective silence. A barber, whom they had only met at the train station, tried to lift the old bookkeeper to this feet, but there was no effort, no motion left to the body. He looked on as his father’s limp, ever-staring face dissipated into the dark, pushed to the opposite corner of the car. To those the body reached in the corner, it was death number 17, but to the girl’s father it was a mentor, a legend, a man. It was the body which had lifted the rafters of his birth-home into place, the body which had been the first to lift the chair at his bar mitzvah, the body which proudly held scars of the Great War. It was the body of the man who he had honorably become himself. The girl’s curls shifted and tumbled over his face as the train curved along through the Black Forest, bringing his gaze away from the engulfing shadow of the corner.

He could not weep. He would not, for fear of waking his beloved daughter. Not for her sake, but for theirs. She would rub her sapphire eyes and look to him. She would say where is food, and he would have no answer. She would say where is drink, and he would have no answer. She would say where is Momma, and he would have no answer. And now she would say where is Grandpa. And he would give no answer. He would kiss her paling cheek and hold her tight, brace her for what she would realize to be true. Like rain flooding the valleys, her tears would fall on the fracturing floor boards, dragging their faith down onto the tracks speeding away underneath them.
He brushed her hair back into place behind her soft ear and settled himself back into a bearable position, making sure not to wake her. After all, if their angel lost hope, how could the rest of them expect to hold onto it?
—
She awoke on her feet to the sound of dogs. Tugging and shoving engulfed her forward motion, cries and commands bombarded her ears, but all the broke through to her were the dogs.

They were hungry. She pictured beyond the sliding boxcar doors the old shepherd dog of Franc Hilmen, the town butcher whom she had not seen since the last train had left town two weeks ago. Living on the scrap marrow of the day’s meat orders, the shepherd roamed as a predator in the streets. The older boys took it as an act of honor and courage to survive teasing and baiting the old dog. His eyes would glaze as he barked and bit at them like a beast on the end of a chain; savage, vengeful, and determined that to gain his meal he would take it by force. He was hungry; he must eat, he would eat.

She had decided after one baiting which she passed going home from tutoring that she would bring something for the old dog each day. She pitied the poor thing and knew she could sneak in some extra braunschweiger in her sandwiches without punishment. She wanted to help because she could. He was hungry, she was not…

They were hungry. And now she was hungry. Her stomach growled as they did. But perhaps it was just the air of the boxcar. Once outside she would escape the stifling thickness which had held them captive for so many days, find her senses, and with them perhaps a good meal. Yes, a nice big meal, maybe even a picnic was waiting for her beyond the train doors. Her Uncle Swen waiting to wrap her in a bear hug, lift her up and fly her through the orchard trees to the table, where there would be bread and jams and Aunt Mary’s family goulash recipe and maybe even some mince meat pie. And strudel, lots of apple strudel.

The slight whiff of baking apples which she caught from her daydream disappeared as the reality of their destination came into view. The only trees in sight were skeletal silhouettes looming behind the far edge of barbed wire fences. Row upon rows of sagging, splitting hutches filled the space within the wire, emptying and silent. No color seemed to touch the landscape, or the people within it. The soldiers who met them at the gates were hard, chalk-faced, and blank. She wondered if this was where the bad soldiers went to be punished, since the good ones always seemed to be in town playing with her and the other children after tutoring hours. Only the men holding the dogs, whose coats were caked in grime and saliva, had any expression at all. Impatience; none of them would even glance toward her as they forced along the panic of the men and women flooding from the train cars. She felt surprisingly calm among them, taking in this new place as mud splattered up from the puddling ground and the constant moving feet of those around her. The muck hung heavy in her curls, their golden shine forgotten.

After passing a man whom she felt to be a kind of Moses, parting the sea of people through the middle, she realized her father was nowhere to be seen or heard. It surprised her, not that he was gone, but that she did not mind. She was a mess from all the tousling around and was glad he could not see the state of her. She knew how sad it made him when her hair was dirtied.

They began moving toward one of the far buildings, this one made of brick instead of molding wood. As they passed the last of the plank houses, she glimpsed a sunken face through a slit in the door. She wondered why it looked so fearful, why they all seemed so afraid. She had seen the soldiers at the gates and along the group of them, pushing them along. But she knew, even if they were the bad soldiers, they were soldiers all the same—there to protect all the people. Perhaps the adults around her had just forgotten their tutoring. They needed to remember, to be reminded of who those soldiers were, and what they meant to the people of Germany. Just before she lost sight of the pale sky and found herself in the dark of the brick building, she saw in the distance, at the pinnacle of the grey, dank landscape, she saw her ray of hope. She planted her feet as firmly as she might and gave a stern and resolute salute to the red banner which lazily fluttered in an unnoticeable breeze. She stood waiting for those around her to see and understand, to know that it was alright. They were in Germany, they were surrounded by Nazi soldiers. They must be safe here. But no one stopped, and her firm stance gave way to the hustling crowd, drawing her into the black entrance.

She only understood one thing among all the chatter and cries. They were to have a community shower. It was as if the sun had erupted through the roof and onto her beaming face. A shower! She could clean her hair so nicely before she found her father again. They might even have a nice new set of clean clothes for her after they had all finished. Clumps of mud and crusting dirt began to fall to the floor from her smiling, bouncing head as she heard the doors of the shower close. Her smile grew ever wider as she lifted her mass of entangled curls, looking up into the faucet head hanging above her. There were still some around her whispering in fear, but she knew better. They were in the care of the Nazis now. Nothing could happen to them here.

This is an ecclectic collection of stories and articles covering everything from futuristic science fiction to contemporary writing on warfare and the use of words. The writing is imaginative and accessible and in cases really makes you take a step back and think. Some of the stories are graphic and don’t hold any punches while others are subtle and well thoughtout. Certainly worth a read and (as the author admits) a very good enticement to read more of the author’s work.

Or My Own embarrassing review.

This is a free compilation of short stories and articles. It is not suitable for youngsters nor the squeamish, as the subject matter is in some places questionable. Mostly its just imaginative scribbling, and please consider this a blatant bribe to entice you to buy my first book, The Navigator.

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/68661

http://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-magic-laptop-ride/id453336604?mt=11

http://ebookstore.sony.com/ebook/steve-merrick/the-navigator/_/R-400000000000000460248

“OMG! It’s a free e-book!?” Gemima Riddick, fashion Editor of the Polynesian Space gazette.

Actually the easiest way to find it is to type the Magic Laptop Ride into google…..

http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1866796

THE FOXES BREATH

BY

STEVE MERRICK

WHO’S WHO 3016AD.

Kostas Sylvia, Mrs DOB;12/04/2984ad. The famous inventor of Viral View, the direct biological transfer of information via various virus types that live within the human nervous system and external transmitter virus’s, enabling the fastest transfer of information directly into the human brain, Although much criticised for her focus on the entertainment applications inherent within her patents, she remains the wealthiest woman in history. Her quote “Why watch or play when you can be there !” Is one of the most visible advertisements on the new viral net.

Kota, (Of The Fox People.) DOB Unknown, estimated 35,500 BC. Age 39/42yrs (Again estimated) The Palaeolithic hunter gatherer child, who became famous for being rescued by the Time Scapes 4000 team after a bear attack that killed all of his direct family. The following public outcry to save the badly wounded child resulted in the first ever temporal/time travelling rescue attempt, broadcast live to the world, the presenter Stony Trobinson (AKA Baldric) became famous for his live quote of “To hell with the grandfather theory!” Kota was watched by over a zillion viewers on Earth and billions more on several colonised planets as he learned and grew up, finally becoming an unwilling global celebrity. Although he is a physicist, he is most well known for his single handed rediscovery of Black and White photography, though his work is obsessed with reflections. In his book The Foxes Breath he wrote about his experiences, expressing his bitterness that the rescuers didn’t go back before the bear attack and save his whole family. His quote, “Why ask me I think you are all crazy!” was said to the world president on a live discussion about capitalism.

Kumar Adsanit, DOB; 24/07/2078ad; Comedian, winner of the 3003 Palm Dore award.

TIME SCAPE 4000.

Kota didn’t know he was being watched by millions of the future people, the small 11 year old boy had no idea that his home would become the English channel and thoughts like that were so far away from his mind at the moment because of the pain in his shoulder and leg, he had stemmed his bleeding just like his mother had showed him to and with the thought of her he cried softly and quietly. Unable to walk Kota crawled pulling and pushing himself up the ridge, he needed to get to the top and start a fire, his mothers sister would see it and help him, he needed too..

It was dark when he woke from the black out, the bear was fresh in his dream, Dad had fought it with mom but his sister hung helplessly from its jaws and Kota shuddered at the memory, then sensing movement behind him he pulled the small bone knife from his torn zebra skin trousers and faced the threat. It was a man with light coming from his head, the man was talking but his words were unfathomable, he pointed a stick at Kota and then it hissed. He felt the bolt sink into his good leg and then watched as the man ran away.

“Did you hit him,” A voice hissed from the distance.

“Yeppa the antibiotics and painkillers should be having an effect about now.”

“Ok Viewers, you have to know that we are only human, there is no way that I can watch a small child suffer like that, so what you have just seen is completely illegal by the rules of temporal anthropology but to hell with the grandfather theory.” Kota watched these mad people with a curious eye, he felt very light headed and then asked them if they could help him make a fire.

“Jubio humsab tat gorak, gorak tat?” he said.

Unfortunately they didn’t understand him, but a woman pushed through the small group of them and started to very rudely look at his injuries. “Tat creokka kiminlep Kota. Tat.” He said and she smiled, her teeth were whiter than the tigers, reflecting from her luminous and obviously crazy head, “Kiminlep Kota?!” The woman gently gripped his shoulder and spoke to him in her sing song. “Jubio, bastrag canodical humsabs.” Kota said and an older man next to her laughed and turned to the other people in this group of maniacs.

“We have to save this little one, he a sharp little tool in his tribe.”

“So professor what did he just say.”

“Well Baldric, he asked us to help him make a fire initially, and the he introduced himself to Ruth, his name is Kota and he is of the Fox People that dominate these marshes.” It was then that Kota heard his own voice replayed, “Jubio bastrag canodical humsabs, actually is quite sweet if I have it translated correctly, he just asked us if we are a bunch magical morons.” The older man turned to Kota, “tat copof bastrag canodical humstrabs.” Kota laughed and looked to the man besides him, the woman had put a very fine snow like bark on his wounds and he leant sleepily onto her breasts, everything was very far away and suddenly unimportant, the square black rock that the man held reflected the light like the waters did, it was quite beautiful.

“Stony, we have to get him to a hospital, we may lose him.”

“Well Ruth what are we waiting for lets get him to our camp and boot up the time machine.”

The dawns sun was so brilliantly reflected in the waters of the lake that he didn’t feel the woman lifting him as the small group ran surrealistically through the sponge like orange and yellow mornings light. Kota gasped when their small village appeared from nowhere around him. As he lay in Ruth’s arms he watched them cluster around a small wooden box and then he said to her, “Tat! Kumlops Tiiime makine?”

“Oh my god Stony! The little buggers trying to talk English.” Ruth’s shocked announcement made the older professor turn and then walk to Kota.

“We should put him under now Ruth, all this stress can’t be helping him.” Kota looked to him.

“Tat creokka kiminlep Kota, Tat?!”

“Tat Creokka James Eriksson, flibba flourge Kota. Flibba flourge.” Kota liked the Elders face and didn’t really notice Ruth’s dart enter his arms but felt the old mans kiss to his forehead and then Darkness.

EXTRACTS FROM THE FOXES BREATH.

Flibba flourge, float on waters, I often wondered how old Eriksson knew that one, of course the old bastard had been bugging our tribe electronically for months before the Time Scape crew showed up. Yet knowing as I now do that time is a wave form I can only wonder if he knew how eloquently he had chosen his words, I am floating on time after all. Yet those were the first words spoken to me by you future people, people to be.

I have just come from my one thousandth brain scan, so my doctor and I had a little party, drunkenly my fingers caress this keyboard, but for all the minute differences between me and you I think its surprising that we all ask the same question, who am I? Where am I going? I could just fill pages and pages about your hypothetical gods here, but in truth we are different, even here I say hello to the sun or the moon each day, or acknowledge a tree, stone, and yes even those maniac squirrels living in the forest near my small house. Somehow the future people lost something in their rush towards infinity, they stopped belonging to it all.

Don’t take offence at that statement, digest it and move on. I am of the Fox people and we lived on the marshes that you now call the English channel. It never occurred to me that I was anything but a part of those marshes, as a child I felt like I was the land itself, yes I helped my father kill our meat, and also helped my mum make our clothes, teepees and all of the other mundane bits of history that seem to be forgotten in favour of gods and power. Somehow this is the largest difference I have encountered between our two tribes, belonging. So what if I wine occasionally, I am meant to but inside I see myself and this cosmos as one, you don’t. It really disturbs me. The little house I live in has no glass in any of the window panes, if a passing badger wants to walk in then so be it, if a maniac human does then it is at their own risk, but when friends stay there is an inevitability to the question. “Why no windows or doors here?”

The answer varies but its goes something like this. “Me, the stars, the rock, the forest, you, the bunnies, everything is a part of me and I am a part of it, when the rain falls am I crying or am I laughing, well that depends on the type of storm that is above but why, why would I try to cut myself off from myself.” Well old Kota knows the value of heat and warmth, I love my little shelter but I also love the wind and smells of that nearby ocean. I am trying to resolve a little bit of science here, its a little conundrum about waves but maybe the bigger puzzle is myself, is all of this just an egotistical response to a newspaper article about yours truly.

THE CAVEMANS A SCIENTIST.

I should object about the term caveman because we lived in tents but somehow it would deny a truth that lurks behind me. Is a primitive representative of Homo Sapiens Sapiens capable of being a scientist. Seriously I give lectures to these kids and putting aside that 35000 year age gap its quite wild how wrong much of their logic is, or more accurately put how conformed. It is reflected in every level of what is called logic, its what is acceptable and what isn’t. It’s the difference between hunting your own rabbits or eating a hamburger. Somehow its that egocentric conformist logic that evades me most, its the most isolating fact I could ever encounter. So isolating that I have lived alone for a very long time. Just old me and my dogs.

I remember the hospital that Ruth chose. The logic of your societies is just like the glass in the windows of my first room there. The world was outside, trees and forests, I could see them from the fifty second floor, but couldn’t smell them or taste them. My hand pressing against that glass was the beginning of that captive period of my life. Even your languages stand abruptly caged in their own philosophies. Eriksson thought that I would have problems coping with concepts like computing or chairs, but he was so wrong, point to it and show the cave kid how it works, then give the object a name, Bicycle, you see? Easy peasy lemon squeazy but subtly not true. Take money, I by default have lots of it, but I don’t get it, I have a darkroom here at home, and an old Yashica 124g camera, both of them cost more than my house did, I make my own chemicals and paper, even the film I shoot is made by myself. Yet although the pictures I take hang all over the planet, my artistic metaphor is never destined to be economical, in fact my chosen careers have both resulted in negative equity. Frustratingly the language I am using here doesn’t even let me express how imprisoned my thoughts are by these dammed words and paragraphical structures.

Well sod it I’ll just blame Shakespeare and leave it at that. Imagine not having an alphabet, that’s where I am from, it was great. My Mom took me to a big girly meeting when I was about seven, and you see even here is useless information, I didn’t know I was seven, I just was and that was enough but here in 3012, I have to tell you I was seven. Like it mattered to anyone. Anyway the reason that the women were meeting was to decide what to call a new animal that had shown up on the marsh, you guys call them hippo’s, this was a big meet by the standards of our matriarchal little tribe and it took two days of arguing before any agreement was reached. Finally the ladies labelled it Kruftsmshtast, which roughly translates into, bad tempered fat bastard that is not even very tasty. I guess you could say we were making it all up as we went along but heck that’s what I have been doing with physics anyway. Everybody gets hung up on the old granddad theory, like who would be mentally ill enough to go back in time and kill their own grandfather, well since I didn’t do it before I obviously can’t do it anyway.

What am I some kind of palaeolithic ambassador. The salve to make everybody feel better for massacring the Amazon or the Tasmanian aborigines, or just some sort of idiot televisual viral visual apology. That’s actually the biggest alarm bell I encountered, all of those people in hospital monging out in front of those screens, watching other people, I could not get my head around that. We primitives actually did thing, and yes my parents seem to have been shagging a lot more than you guy’s do but then that was before television got invented. No that wasn’t good enough though, now its all viral, and guess what, my primitive virus’s are not compatible, you no longer even need a screen. I first realised how crap this was when none of my students showed up for class, they were all watching me, in their beds, not moving, whilst I stood unsuccessfully in an empty classroom trying to talk to a wall.

I live in a place called Whitby and whenever I go into town over the past seven years there have been less and less people on the streets, at first they had to eat and pooh but then one of Sylvia Kostas’s crew figured a remote controlled robot up and voilà, the viral net had a whole new industry to play with. Silent streets and slumbering industries, humanity in hiding or some kind of reality denial mechanism, well I don’t know. London, Beijing, Paris even New York are grave like. Not that that can bother me, amidst all of this collective insanity I know I don’t belong. I just want to go home.

Viral Net Police File

Report 1777209b

There has been a noted increase in reality crime over this month, the failure to accept the new trends towards a virtual existence has isolated and created a very small minority known as Squeakers, led seemingly by the artist/physicist Kota (of the fox people.) Since the virtual community is unaffected by such actions as thefts or squatting no action has been taken. However communications with the Squeakers has resulted in a guarantee that no violent actions will be taken against the community. Therefore no action will be taken unless it involves harm to the person.

Report 1777209c The recent Break in at the temporal institute and activation of the Time Mechanisms has resulted in despatching two officers into reality 1 status.

WHO’S WHO 3016AD

Kostas Sylvia, Mrs DOB;12/04/2984ad. The famous inventor of Viral View, the direct biological transfer of information via various virus types that live within the human nervous system and external transmitter virus’s, enabling the fastest transfer of information directly into the human brain, creating what has become the Inner-verse. Although much criticised for her focus on the entertainment applications inherent within her patents, she remains the wealthiest woman in history. Her quote “Why watch or play when you can be there !” Is one of the most visible advertisements on the new viral net.

Kumar Adsanit, DOB; 24/07/2078ad; Comedian, 2^nd place in the 3003 Palm Dore award.

TIME SCAPE 4000

“Following yesterdays horrifying attack the boy called Kota is struggling to survive, we at Time Scape have been following this story and are struggling to decide our next course of action. Remember that this is live coverage folks and nobody can foresee the outcome but life and death are in the balance here and now.”

“Your life and Your death.”

Kota smiled inwardly to himself when he finally said those words, the heavy weight of the military grade pulse pistol felt satisfying in his hands. Stony stood frozen, a confused expression kept flickering across his face, Ruth hid quietly pragmatic behind the wildly focusing camera man. Behind them Kota could see his small body struggling up towards the ridge.

“Give me the dart gun,” Kota deliberately turned towards the camera, “Well folks, I am the grandfather theory.” With a relaxed almost absent minded speed he aimed and casually shot his child self with the antibiotic dart. “I am Kota of the Fox people and I am the grandfather theory made flesh.” Pointing the pistol at Eriksson viewers had never seen ice like that in any movie. “Follow me.” There was no arguing with the voice, it had a depth of 35000 years behind it and an authority of its own, gentle, playful and bell like though his voice was, this quiet was a verbal crystallisation. “Follow me and learn.”

At the top of the ridge was a collection of dried sticks and branches, Kota pulled a petrol lighter from his pocket and ignited the larger bundle, he smiled as he watched the flames take hold. “Oh yes I shall miss some of the technology.” Stony later recollected that all he could see was the really enormous pulse pistol that was millimetres from his face, Eriksson upon seeing the tattoos on Kota’s face knew what demon he was facing, Ruth described her abject terror at the realisation that things could change, living without a future or past for that one hour was the worst experience of her life, whilst the camera woman just kept shooting. “In your own language this is called a beacon.” The flames were high enough now and Kota looked down at his wounded and unconscious self. Stroking the child’s head he said, “Float on water.”

Silently he hid them in the dense undergrowth nearby, “Watch and learn.” Kota felt alive again as he breathed the marsh, ending this captive odyssey one way or another suited him just fine. He knew that Stony Ruth and even Eriksson were living in a fantasy slumberville so what could be worse, besides he wasn’t going back in time to kill himself. A woman in skins ran over the ridge, rushing to the damaged child. “Its probably all reflective retro-causal unrealised realities anyway, float on water, Ruth, float on water.” Kota felt himself ceasing to exist and his last conscious thought was, “What was that all about.”

WHO’S WHO 3016 AD

Kostas Sylvia, Mrs DOB;12/04/2984ad. The infamous inventor of Viral View, the direct biological transfer of information via various virus types that live within the human nervous system and external transmitter virus’s, enabling the fastest transfer of information directly into the human brain, Although much criticised because her focus on the entertainment applications inherent within her patents blinded her to the dangers of the biological devices, she remains one of the most morally questionable scientists due to the massed epidemic that resulted in twelve million deaths. Her quote “How could I have foreseen any of this.” Taken from the minutes of her trial for massed manslaughter.

Kota, (Of The Fox People.) DOB Unknown, estimated 35,500 BC. Age 68/73 (Again estimated) Considered by many to be one of the first ever scientists, his life was highlighted by the Time Scape 4000 team and he has regularly featured on that successful program, noted for working out how to navigate using stars and also domesticating foxes in hunting, although never a chief or leader, the father of 3 girls and one boy, he died accidentally in what was thought to be the first ever human attempt to make optical glass.

Kumar Adsanit, DOB; 24/07/2078ad; T shirt fashion designer, most noted for his range called, The Grandfather Theory.

TIME SCAPE 4000

Kota and his son stroll casually towards their home as the sunsets dramatically behind him, He waves and smiles to his life lover Traggredg, and then sits on the hillock gazing at the reflections in the lakes water, a small and tatty looking fox curls up in his lap, as his son excitedly runs up the hill with a dead rabbit he has snared. The camera zooms into the amazement on the small boys face and then Kota gives him a hug, smiling as the sun sets on a grateful day Traggedg sits besides Kota whilst breastfeeding their second child. Then with his arms around all of them the small hunter gathering family sits and watches their ever majestic friend the sun, set.

The End.

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28 short fiction, 13 of which have previously been published.  The collection also includes the award-winning horror story Crossed.

Reviews:

If you are after a collection of short stories, that take only a moment to read but keep you thinking for a long while after, then this is the book for you.

One of the things I love about this book, is that each tale is like a sudden blast of energy. Each quick tale is like the best scene out of a film, of the climax to a powerful piece of music. Snappy, and straight to the point.

Whether the tales are about the battle between good and evil, of the end of the earth, there is something in this book for everyone.  UK

In this collection of stories there is something for everyone. The stories range from a period romance to vampires. definitely worth reading.  B&N

This book is a must read. There are so many stories-all so different-they will appeal to anyone/everyone. Some are only 1-2 paragraphs, but the author was able to create an entire world-truly spectacular! Riveting and a quick read-you won’t want to pass this up!       USA

E-book

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/heads-tales-karina-kantas/1105699937

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Heads-Tales-ebook/dp/B0071MJPT2/ref=ntt_at_ep_edition_2_4

Printed

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/heads-and-tales-karina-kantas/1009348100?ean=9781435708082

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Heads-Tales-Karina-Kantas/dp/1435708083/ref=ntt_at_ep_edition_1_4

diverse collection of flash and short fiction

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