tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-212828592011-11-20T15:55:54.937+10:30A sci-fi story set in today's world, as well as 250 years ago, and 250 years after 250 years ago. And then it gets a bit fuzzy as to whether that now is the real now. If you can remember the old one, when was it?nshadynoreply@blogger.comBlogger201100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1158983966268254552006-09-23T13:26:00.000+09:302006-09-23T13:29:26.283+09:30

I quickly flipped open the Shifter, searching for anything that could help me. I pulled the lever, but nothing happened, other than that same whining noise as earlier and a “Promixity Warning” flashing on screen. I pointed the Shifter at the LXR, which I’d managed to hold on to, hoping for a miracle. The Shifter vibrated. I stared at it in wonderment. Then, realising I only had about half a

nshadynoreply@blogger.com295tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1150629344390150892006-06-18T20:42:00.000+09:302006-06-20T15:35:57.450+09:30

I opened my eyes once the wind stopped. In front of me was a pedestal, with a vial floating in midair above it. Silver and shiny, it bobbed up and down between what I assumed were two magnets. ‘LXR’, it was marked. I hesitated, and then grabbed it out of midair. Ding went the Shifter. Dongdongdongdongdongdongdong went the alarms. I turned around, looking for a corner to hide in. The room was

nshadynoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1150104585354302742006-06-12T18:57:00.000+09:302006-06-13T16:41:38.196+09:30

I’d tried all the other doors along the corridor, but they were all locked or wouldn’t open. I’d even left a shoe in the middle of the hallway and entered the door at the end, but my shoe was still waiting for me when I passed through. I didn’t know what to do. I sat down and retied my shoe, and thought through my options. The Shifter slid out of my pocket. Of course! I wasn’t thinking properly.I

nshadynoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1148802877978232622006-05-28T17:23:00.000+09:302006-05-28T17:24:37.993+09:30

A grimy, brown, rusted cabin presented itself as I stepped through the frame. This was immediately reassuring. I could handle dirt. A man with glasses was bent over a table that seemed to be displaying live feeds from security cameras. He spun a pen in his hand, and occasionally pressed at the videos, moving them or something. I took a step into the room, and his head shot up, staring right at me

nshadynoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1147089808420490322006-05-08T21:32:00.000+09:302006-05-08T21:33:28.436+09:30

I appeared in the sky roughly four metres above where my house used to be. I quickly realised that at least gravity was still hanging around, and that I hadn’t screwed that up too. Luckily, my house was now a crystal clear lake, which softened my fall. I floundered my way to the surface, suddenly remembering at an opportune time that I wasn’t the swimming type, and added it to my mental

nshadynoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1146477534647746552006-05-01T19:11:00.000+09:302006-05-01T19:28:54.840+09:30

The man was steadily coming closer. I was steadily not moving. I decided to change that, and started to sprint away from him. Stumbling up steps, I tried to focus on running and also on looking at the Shifter at the same time. The Shifter’s screen was red, and the words “Within” and “Without” were flashing. Next to each word was a number – the “Within” value was increasing, while the “Without”

nshadynoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1145430856707682612006-04-19T16:42:00.000+09:302006-04-20T11:48:36.560+09:30

I didn’t argue. The door at the end of the corridor now seemed an incredibly long distance away. Still, I had broken into a fairly steady lope and was narrowing in on the exit quickly; the wooden pews were just a blur around me. I reached the opening of the chapel and slid through. As I did so, I had to look backwards to shut the door.The pews were on fire. Brilliant red flames licked at the

nshadynoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1144580040554651332006-04-09T20:14:00.000+09:302006-04-09T20:24:00.646+09:30

Entering the cool and dimly lit antechamber of the church, I paused and admired the delicate stained glass framed at the rear of the building. Briefly, I wondered how buildings constructed with so little technology could age so well and look so beautiful 250 years in the future, while the houses we build with computers and lasers crack and crumble in just 50.‘Welcome,’ reverberated a voice from

nshadynoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1142850960455408252006-03-20T21:03:00.000+10:302006-03-20T21:06:00.473+10:30

I had the feeling that was balancing on something, and it hurt to do so. I opened my eyes, and decided that my viewpoint was slightly different. Plus, my legs still ached. I looked down at what I was standing on.Nothing. The ground.Hmm…I shrugged it off as a kind of jet lag. That didn’t make my legs feel any better. Glancing up, I examined my surroundings. I was standing on rough cobblestones

nshadynoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1142218379406193122006-03-13T13:22:00.000+10:302006-03-13T13:22:59.406+10:30

I think it was a few hours later. It was near dusk; the mosquitoes were out and the birds were settling into their nests. There was no sound pollution to deter them from the trees, and no air pollution to kill them off if they nested. Wind gently rustled the leaves of the magnificent old gums that lined the streets with military precision. I got up from my crude seat of light-bricks, and stared

nshadynoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1141549153891750412006-03-05T19:27:00.000+10:302006-03-05T19:29:30.786+10:30

I decided to walk home. Well, back to the demolished house that may or may not have been mine. As I walked down along a better footpath than usual, I tried to work what my situation was. This was 2006, but it wasn’t the 2006 from before. The Shifter took me somewhere, and then I handed over antiseptic to someone who had been waiting impatiently for my arrival in…wherever. My legs were sore. There

nshadynoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1140943015143331772006-02-26T19:06:00.000+10:302006-02-26T19:06:55.153+10:30

I grabbed the chemical fire extinguisher from by the door, and gave an experimental squeeze of the handle. White foam rocketed out. I thought ‘why not?’, and unleashed some serious powdered fury on the nearby lockers. With my tension alleviated, I raised the extinguisher above my head and grabbed it firmly with both hands. Taking a deep breath, I slammed the extinguisher down hard on the knob.

nshadynoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1140435414125426082006-02-20T22:06:00.000+10:302006-03-07T16:40:38.560+10:30

In the main portion of the screen was a 3D arrow, and it was currently pointing down the street, away from me. I suddenly noticed that underneath the yellow date was some red text. It read: ‘Displacement: 2015’, which meant very little to me. Since I had nothing better to do, and it didn’t seem like there were any police or firemen on the way to fix my – no, the – house, I followed the arrow.I

nshadynoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1139722856650552972006-02-12T16:10:00.000+10:302006-02-12T16:10:56.663+10:30

The issue with the darkness was once again resolved by the raising of eyelids from over eyes, not unlike the removal of the skin from an onion and with a similar amount of tears. Seeing the smoking rubble of my house was comforting, in a kind of depressing way. I stumbled over to the remains of the bathroom, trying to find the man that gave me the Shifter. I found him relatively easily, and began

nshadynoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1139224854291695162006-02-06T21:50:00.000+10:302006-02-06T21:50:54.303+10:30

The left hand half was marked SHIFTER, in unobtrusive white lettering. It had a white lever inset in the side. Apple would have been proud of it. It seemed to ooze expensive-ness. I carefully slipped it back in my pocket. In the other hand I was surprised to see a reflective black container. I cautiously unscrewed the lid, and then wafted some air above the spout towards me. It smelled vaguely

nshadynoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1138589514320592502006-01-30T13:21:00.000+10:302006-01-30T13:44:54.043+10:30

When I regained consciousness, all of my senses were jostling for my attention with news to report. Each sense obviously felt its news was more important than the others, and was busy trying to hold the other senses’ mouths closed while they were elbowing him in the stomach and stepping on his toes. It was giving me a headache.The first thing I noticed was that I was standing. Touch saluted, and

nshadynoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1138435570914363052006-01-28T18:37:00.000+10:302006-01-28T18:38:14.613+10:30

I spasmed, and stood up in a rush of movement. Wiping the sticky mess off my leg, I dry retched, then spat on the rubble. Mental note: not the surgeon type either. A cough arose from behind the pile, and my head shot up. Picking up a sturdy beam, I wielded it experimentally. It felt solid, even if it was covered with splinters. I worked myself up: ‘It’s okay, Joel. Just go around the corner and

nshadynoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1138008657487366792006-01-23T19:59:00.000+10:302006-01-23T22:39:38.930+10:30

As a prepubescent tween, I wasn’t particularly good looking. Not ugly, but nothing to write home about either. Unfortunately, this was becoming more and more apparent as time progressed; at just 12, I was only beginning to understand that there were several hard years ahead of me. I didn’t exactly fit in with others my age. That wasn’t entirely my fault.I set out for school at my regular time of

nshadynoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1137822682317291332006-01-21T16:20:00.000+10:302006-01-21T16:21:22.316+10:30

A young boy stepped off the verandah, and on to the gravelled path. He waved to his mother, and felt the lunch he’d made that morning settle in his backpack. He walked to the gate, and with a squeak and a clang was out. His watch blinked 8:30 – 5 minutes before the bell. A glance back at the house revealed no parent; no doubt she was already grabbing her cigarettes now that he was off to school.

nshadynoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21282859.post-1137813423894929242006-01-21T13:45:00.000+10:302006-01-21T16:25:04.010+10:30

Okay then.I've decided that for general neatness to create a second blog - this one - which will house exclusively the story 'Switchling'. All comments, heads-ups etc. will be back in In The Long Run.There's also a feed for this blog too - http://switchling.blogspot.com/atom.xml. Get it, fools!

nshadynoreply@blogger.com0