Ayesha Boison

“Good evening, it is January 21st, 2189, 7 p.m. My name is Bastian Greene, and this is Channel 99 News. In just two days, the annual EVOlution festival will be taking place at the City Square. It’s been one hundred years since the evolution of technology changed the world, thanks to the eager participation of various companies. We want to give a special thanks to the Prodigal Mechanization Corporation, who initially began this life-changing project.”
     Neve Maravelle overheard the faint voice on her TV, so she hurried over to grab the remote on the coffee table, and quickly upped the volume. She sat cross-legged on the sofa and listened intently to the newsman.
     “Eighteen years ago, these enormous advances introduced programming that promoted the sole use of the English language. This simplified relations in global trade, especially in business, and led to automatic and instant translation. As the demand for them grew over time, these new technologies were installed in every country in the world. Over the years, people gradually adhered to the singular language, making communication much easier for anyone visiting a foreign place. Individuals from far and wide have certainly had a smoother time immigrating from their homelands…”
Continue reading HeartSteel

The Meta Party

Emma Morden     

Claire enters her apartment with a prominent scowl on her face, all her friends are gathered in the living room and kitchen listening to loud music and enjoying her drinks. The crowd is silenced as she slams the door behind her. They all stand around, tightening their grips on their glasses,  feeling the tension rise in the room. Claire jams her coat on the hanger, and stomps over to the drinks table, pouring herself a giant glass of wine.
       Only after a large gulp does she glance around the room, looking for one person in particular—her former best friend Kerry…


       David sat at his writing desk, typing out the words on the page with one hand as he sipped his tea with the other. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and his beard was growing in. For three days he had been sitting there, avoiding light and any human contact. His story was almost a month late, and he hadn’t had any form of inspiration. At this point, he was determined to write anything at all, even if it was complete crap, just so he could hand it in for editing at least. Once someone looked it over, maybe it would give him time to think of some brilliant twist to give this story. Continue reading The Meta Party