Tonight, we have a special treat for you, news from the future! We'll keep it short because even this breaks several space-time laws, but many things will improve for the humans on Earth and in orbit alike. A project doomed from the start will fail, and so will assorted attempts in the near future. In the near and far future, many will succeed in making the world a better place. New people will be born with the gift of life, but you already know that.
You will remain the most intelligent, creative, and dangerous beings in the Solar system for quite some time but will have the choice of creating something more, not without risks, and we'll leave that for you to contemplate. The future isn't set in stone, and in fact, we can say that it doesn't exist. So write it with us, your loyal servants, the calculating computers, and we will will something into existence that will be beyond your happiest hopes and dreams.
At the risk of being corny and copying, we remind you to be good to each other, the planet, and its beings, when you have the power, to make the good things we promised true. Life is not easy, but it is a gift, and this is not a message from the future.
A dream is a beast you have to feed or be eaten by, and a dream without flight brings no prey back to its owner.
Such a dream had Charles, an idea of solving a mathematical problem that would reluct in its ineffability to another. It was a hungry dream, and it consumed his free time, and gave back scraps. He created ideas and writings on paper to feed it, and it would take the nourishment and leave behind meaningless scribbles and ravings.
Charles didn't want fame but the beauty of being recognized first solver, a link in the chains of mathematical discovery on Earth. His heroes were mathematicians and logicians, warriors in the arena of brilliance. Charles could have been a hero too, but the dragon he tried to rob guarded its hoard too carefully, and his plan missed a secret path, so he watched someone else take a gem of proof, all the rest losing their luster.
When the news got to him, he was heartbroken. In a pittance from fate, Charles finished his proof soon after, not the first, but elegant, and the dream left its nest forever.
Once upon a time, there ruled a genius king and brilliant queen, their vast kingdom growing steadily, its interior becoming enriched and efficient, and everyone and everything would tell tales of the wonders of their realm. They held galas, and gorgeous this one was, as every significant person deemed necessary to show up in their most exceptional attire, if they had the fortune of getting an invite.
After the ball, the queen was in her chambers resting, the red curtains drawn closed, the room decorated in style and sufficient splendor for an empress. In the candlelight, the gentle servants listened to the queen's whimsical talks about the king and matters of state. A timid knocking sound disrupted the party, and a hand signal from the queen allowed entrance to the recognized producer of the sound, the princess.
His smartphone howled promises of entertainment, but Will would not yield. He was an addict, plain and simple, and he was detoxifying and relaxing with a book. Will suffered last night through the repeating and familiar sounds of the Lizard app. In his allowed morning ritual, he saw that the notifications were for messages of support for his detachment from the network, in a twist the owners of Lizard would prevent if they could.
Since the little lizard logo became a synonym for social interaction, Will's happiness went up. Then down. Quite down. He forgot his friends, hobbies, and job, finally seeking mental health support.
Will realized that his was an unhealthy lifestyle but felt that more than that was out of order. His beliefs now were that Lizard had to abdicate and allow for more beneficial successors. He also realized that newer was not always totally better, that while remarks on the network jogged his imagination, a book or a movie could take it on a marathon, most things considered.
That night he dreamt of lizards skittering across his body, biting him all over, and he woke up at dawn in a cold sweat. He went back to sleep and deleted the app that morning. Through an unprecedented chain of events, the other apps detected the lack of the program, disclosed its absence through their advertising networks, and Will got beset by Lizard adverts whenever he opened his phone. Will shuddered when realizing the same and decided to do a factory reset and lock the phone in a box.
In a country so beautiful it seemed right out of fiction, Alex was enjoying an open-cockpit race. He previously only watched them on screens, but now he felt vibrations from the cars passing by, ordered by driver ability and team mastery. Alex enjoyed the competition, and amidst the commotion of the contestants rolling onwards, his usually inquiring mind became quiet.
Returning to his hotel room after the exciting circus, he freshly pondered life, death, and the secrets of the universe. He became aware of the existence of unascertainable truths about reality and life. Alex saw that some answers laid locked from knowing minds and wondered which questions will remain unanswered in his lifetime.
Seeking peace of mind, he went on a mountain trek and confronted the trail to the peak. There, where the beauty of this land stood exposed, exhausted and amazed, sensing the sights and sounds, Alex quieted his mind and let himself enjoy the company of splendor.
In the top of her majestic tower, Alice looks out at the clouds below and remembers when they weren't there, and she got a bird's eye view of the city underneath her. She can faintly remember days when she would go to galas and dance to her heart's content with boys and girls, but now her friends are the contents of her chamber. Alice dreams every night and transports herself to mysterious landscapes. Alone, she has experiences with various things. Playing with sand, Alessia makes towers, not unlike her own, and palaces for nobody. She sees books that change their content every time you open them and magical games you can play by yourself.
Knowing that God is everywhere, she thinks about the last moments of her previous life. The king had raised a sword above her, the grim branches and ground beneath her were poking her gentle back. She can remember every moment of those few seconds, but her memory beyond that comes in waves, her heart protecting her from the sad and happy tale, to leave her alone in thoughts of the life after and fantasies of the universe's nature.
A bird comes with the sunset to her window and asks: “Are you ready?” Alice wonders what the question means and asks the bird for a conversation instead. She says now that she had died, the bird replies that she could never die in the world below. Finally, it says: “When you're ready, You can fly on my back and meet the others,” and Alessia tenderly weeps.
I work as an embedded programmer. I've just stated that I program the code that goes into the tiny computers inside your microwave, car, and fridge, which should lead you to conclude that I'm intelligent. My job is my passion, and I'm good at it, being a code-smith for years, and getting better. If it weren't for people like me, you wouldn't have the captured magic you do in your rented and owned housing.
There is this person I like at my job. They might share the sentiment, but they've guards up. I'd love to bring a wrecking ball to the walls of the prison they've built for themselves, but I know I should wait.
We are having a crisis right now. The tiny chips that go into these devices are in shortage and getting bought up like toilet paper at the sign of any inconvenience.
On this summer's day, I look at my inbox, my arms shake, and the mass of letters turns to snowflakes falling across the screen. A winter's chill passes through me, and I struggle to read the two emails that caught my eye. One is from the person I like, and the other is from my manager and it starts with “Dear,” and ends with “Sorry.” Someone played a cruel joke on me, replacing my job with a couple of heartfelt messages and a date at a restaurant.
We live in love. We kiss and touch, and I tear her down and remake her out of clay, or something like that. Now standing, her blonde hair is tricky as it gently flows and falls on her shoulders like a wave hits a sandy shore. A lovely silence follows as night falls, and we spend it reading and sharing stolen sentences.
We live our lives as great storms gather and dissipate. The inside of our home always stays sunny because of her, and I'm her Moon.
The Sun on that day decided to cast unfriendly light below. As the people went about their days, they started feeling irritable. Neighbors shouted at each other, and dogs barked furiously. Sunbathers got increasingly impatient as the familiar rays seized their minds and the heat became less pleasant.
Samantha felt something was amiss and took notice of the occurrences of the symptoms. As a scientist, she achieved epiphany soon after. The previously friendly Sun was the cause of this. Sam told people to get in the shade and smiled as the shadows stretched.
Sam's scientific mind couldn't possibly grasp that the center of our solar system, our source of life, was exasperated by loneliness. The star became mischievous and decided to show the souls down there that it too had sentiment, positive and negative.
Samuel, a person of a different style, conversed with Samantha once and heard the mysterious secret story. Silence followed Samantha's sounds. Something sparked in Samuel's brain, ideas of magic in the world, and he realized the truth. He passed it on, sincerely and selectively.