humanity

The evolution of humanity, from one advancement to the next.

COLOURBLIND
Broken by time, Illen took off his gloves. There was no going back now. If they could go back, it would take lifetimes. Too many lifetimes to even consider. There was a chance once, but they had ignored it. Illen had tried, or at least he had convinced himself he tried. Attempts to steer materialistic conversations about watches, rock bands and motorbikes in the direction of political infringements on privacy had all but failed.
By Titus Maclaren5 years ago in Futurism
When Ravens Eat Men
Her Grandmother had always known. How had it taken her this long to put it all together? It had been years since she dared open the locket, so afraid its weathered clasp would never close again. Afraid she would lose what was inside of it, along with all else she had lost. Her hands fumbled one too many times over the tarnished, golden heart and lost the will of the moment.
By M.C. Murphy 5 years ago in Futurism
Players
The skin still dipped. An indent quickly fading. Or was it just a memory of a once permanent fixture upon her neck? What use was sentiment? She was quickly realising that emotion and attachments were tethers to a past she needed to forget. With that locket, so too did her heart disappear. She looked only forward - to survival. And to survive was to keep moving, changing, adapting. Forgetting the mistakes of the past.
By Stephanie Ryde5 years ago in Futurism
Universe of Love
The universe of love will be our next home. This new place will correct the issues of the “completely corrupt place” past life that led to the destruction of humanity. In this new life nobody will have the choice or opportunity to be made with wicked characteristics. It just won’t happen. Nobody will live with hate in their precious hearts. Nobody will use their free-will for selfish purposes or for any kind of harmful meaning. Nobody will go hungry or thirsty because we’ve arrived an idea that basic needs shall never be at a cost or at an expense when we create this new loving place. One that is sweeter and one that is full of joy, laughter, peace, love, and fun times that are ready to be enjoyed. This one is where all the people may live at ease and have no worries, no inner issues of ones self, or any insecurities because in this brand new world our peoples know better than to insult someone else. The world as we knew it had to come to an end. Think about it like this… the act of robotic living and the ritual of robotic thinking clashed with the manor of doing things out of pure love and for doing hard work to ensure the future of these suffering lives may be way better.
By Keanna Barry 5 years ago in Futurism
One Less Heart
The neon lights spilled over the dance floor and my mini dress as I revolved around the city’s prominent night spot. I was one of many soaking in its volatility and entertaining as I observed the heartless wonders who deemed themselves God’s last purpose. The people that monopolized this club all had at least one thing in common; they all knew when they would die. If things were different maybe the decision to build this city and imprison its people would not have been contrived.
By Krys Woody5 years ago in Futurism
Dystopia
Walking into a settlement is easier when the remnants of forgotten civilizations are not present. The towering structures, imposing on the horizon, stand as sentinels blocking out the sky. With a view for many miles they make great early warning stations for anyone looking to defend against intrusion or to ambush unsuspecting travelers. Holes in which to enter through are everywhere, but in the late day seeing what’s inside is impossible. This is hard work and he knows this could be the end if he does not take every precaution. As he walks up the stairs, he is sure to make as little noise as possible, staying against the inner wall to allow himself space to fight off attack if something comes from one of the darkened floors, and to hear if something is coming. He has been climbing up for a long time now, he judges by the sweat that’s dripping down his face, when he sees a rock. It is out of place here; this is something found outside, and he knows it does not belong. He moves on and does not disturb it, as it may be there for a reason. He continues up.
By A Rodriguez5 years ago in Futurism
Tamina
Tamina loved walking through the city in the dead of night. After the cleaning crews wrapped up their last office tower, but before the early rising commuters made their way back into town, there was a small window of time where she could truly be alone. She’d walk along the sidewalks lost in thought, weaving around the skyscrapers and apartment buildings, businesses with the lights completely turned off, rarely seeing another soul. The only sound that reached her ears was the soft thud of her shoes hitting the pavement, occasionally drowned out by the far off hum of a solar panel inverter. Streetlights welcomed her into their soft glow every few hundred feet, and in between she’d look up and admire the vast sky of stars above her.
By Katie Dee5 years ago in Futurism
Fight or Flight or Freeze
The rations line was started to get restless. People had been lined up for hours waiting for their daily allotment of bread and cheese. Maggie looked across to the well. Drawn haggard faces looked back at her. Cheek and rib bones visible on the barely clothed children. Emaciated adults swaying in place, the dehydration and desperation their last tethers to the earth.
By Laura Buonpastore5 years ago in Futurism
The End is the Beginning
“It will be fun,” Command said. “He’s an expert,” Command said. “You wouldn’t want to retire before seeing Earth now, would you?” Command said.
By Laura Buonpastore5 years ago in Futurism
A Heart of Brass
The first time I met David Scott through the lens of my tight brown leather gasmask, he was clutching a heart-shaped locket made from the brass that he had stolen off the tops of garden taps. Carefully placing it in my grasp he claimed that he melted them down, by rubbing them on his denim jeans, causing such friction that they could be moulded into the locket. “Probably should’ve taken them off first. The bugger damn near burnt my dick off” He casually joked. In reality, it was probably the constantly exacerbating heatwaves that made this possible, but I didn’t want to argue with this unhinged individual as he started loading his Antique French Flintlock Pistol. “Fucked if I know, if this shit-cunt thing still fires” he glumly moaned staring off into the blood-red sky numb to the sweltering heat of the beating sun. “What’s in the locket?” I asked him as he continued to examine his Pistol. “My bloody heart and soul of course. Means more to me than you will ever know” he exclaimed winking through his grey leather gasmask. “I’ll be careful with it then”, I replied carefully plunging the locket into the pocket of my pants. I was a tall lanky man with red hair and a beard sweating through a black pinstripe shirt with brown pants and suspenders that I was seriously regretting while he was a short bald man sweating through his rose-patterned white shirt with grey pants. We were in the middle of what was usually a busy highway, but today dividing the concrete monoliths of financiers and clergymen was a long asphalt track. Crowds of masked and unmasked people surrounded the edges creating makeshift barriers between the real world and the sideshow about to unfold before their very eyes. The heat apocalypse slowly but surely, killing us all seemed not to worry them as they eagerly stared at the other side of the road where Michael Brent, stood tall and broad-shouldered, in his cream-coloured shirt with a blue paisley vest and blue leather gasmask. He too was fumbling with his Antique French Flintlock Pistol. This may seem like a peculiar sight to you, but such events are commonplace at the Wernham-Miffler Institute of Hydration and Air Filtration Insurance, where workplace disputes are solved by the only efficient means possible. Pistols at dawn. My name is Keith Malone, I chronicle apocalyptic events affecting the workplace, this is my personal account of the duel that transpired.
By Zac Rose5 years ago in Futurism
Strands of Time
Warm rain. A perpetual, light shower falling across the gormless landscape, on a day like any other. She had lost track of which it was. Her memory had been affected by malnourishment. It all merged into one like the colours smudged upon an artist’s palette.
By A.R. Lerwill5 years ago in Futurism
Doomsday
It’s been ten years since the pandemic broke out. The government thought they could cure everyone by putting a vaccine in the water supply, but it only made matters worse. It all started when big corporations like Wal-Mart started shutting down, followed by the oil companies, and we slowly started getting fewer and fewer shipments with supplies. Everyone started panicking trying to get food and water but they had no such luck, riots started breaking out all over the place with people fighting to survive. Many decided to stay and struggle make-do with the limited supplies that were left while the others chose to break free from society and go off on their own to survive off the lands. Few who saw this coming had prepared, they had seeds for farming and basic knowledge of how to make necessities. A few were a little over-prepared, they had their bunkers stocked so full of supplies they could barely move. A group of friends started a small Utopia for whatever survivors were left. Arron, who was the leader of the group; was around 5’4” with short brown hair with shaved sides, mellow hazel eyes, and a fit body with an eight-pack. David, he was the commander for the peace-keepers, he was tall around 6’4” and slimly buff with jet black messy layered hair with long bangs swept to one side, black-rimmed glasses, tattooed sleeves up and down his arms, one arm was themed with the Native American spirit animals and the other had a more nautical theme with a helm wheel in the middle of his forearm, and piercing blue eyes, the kind of blue that makes you think of the morning sky or the oceans in Cancun. And lastly, Milo was a search and rescue expert, the shortest of the bunch standing at 5’0” with round-rimmed glasses, dark brown hair the same style as David’s, and tattoos covering up a good amount of his body. David, Arron, and Milo were in a polyamorous relationship, and for their anniversary David and Milo pooled their money together and bought Arron a locket. The locket was 24k gold and shaped like a small heart with David and Milo’s pictures in it. That was all David had found one morning after she disappeared. “Milo!” He had run into Milo’s room after the discovery and shook him awake.
By David Skylark Magill5 years ago in Futurism