The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom Dust tasted like regret. Old metal, pulverized bone, the ghost of rain that hadn’t fallen in decades. Wren coughed, pulling her bandana tighter across her nose. The sun, a bruised plum low on the horizon, bled…
Science Fiction
Scientific, Technological life and Cyberpunk
Read MoreThe Static Bloom
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom The grit tasted like burnt cinnamon and regret. Elara spat, the phosphorescent dust clinging to her tongue. Below, the pipeline pulsed with a sickly amber glow. A vein throbbing under skin of black silicate. She adjusted…
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom Dust motes danced in the single beam of Elara’s headlamp. The air, thick and cool, smelled like wet earth and something older – decay barely contained. She traced the whorled pattern on a fossilized leaf, its…
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom The chipped Formica countertop smelled faintly of chlorine. Rain lashed against the corrugated metal roof of the research shack, a frantic drumming that nearly drowned out the hum of the bioreactors. Dr. Aris Thorne traced a…
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom The chipped Formica countertop felt cold under Aris Thorne’s elbows. He hadn’t slept properly in seventy-two hours, not since the first tremor hit the data stream. Not since the birds started *singing* in code. He squinted…
Echo Bloom
## Echo Bloom The sterile white of the Reclaimer’s chair bit into Elias Vance’s spine. Not pain, exactly. A cold insistence. He stared at the iridescent swirl blooming on the ceiling panel – the visual signature of download beginning. They…
Echo Bloom
## Echo Bloom The chipped Formica countertop felt cold beneath Leo Maxwell’s elbows. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the kitchen light, preferring the pre-dawn grey filtering through the blinds. Outside, Denver breathed quiet, a city holding its breath. He…
Static Bloom
## Static Bloom The chipped Formica of the diner booth felt cold under Elias’s forearms. Rain hammered against the plasteel windows, blurring the neon glow of “Stella’s Fuel & Feed.” He hadn’t touched his synth-coffee. The scent of burnt protein…
Echo Bloom
## Echo Bloom The chipped Formica of the diner booth stuck to Leo Maxwell’s elbows. Rain smeared the neon glow of “Rosie’s” across the windshield. He hadn’t touched his coffee, just stirred it, watching the steam curl like a phantom…
Echo Bloom
## Echo Bloom The rain tasted like static on my tongue. Not the sharp bite of ozone, but a dull hum, layered under the city’s grit. January in Detroit always felt like a slow unraveling. I pulled my collar higher,…
Static Bloom
## Static Bloom The harvester, they called it the ‘Dust Moth,’ hung suspended against a bruised violet sky. Not beautiful. Functional. A dull silver sphere bristling with antennae, it drifted like a forgotten buoy in the upper atmosphere of Veridia…
The Bloom Collector
## The Bloom Collector The salt spray tasted like ghosts. Wren traced the chipped Formica of the galley table, knuckles white against the faded blue. Outside, the *Cerulean’s* hull hummed, a low thrum against the perpetual gray of the Pacific.…
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom The dust tasted like iron and regret. Elias scraped a finger across the console, leaving a smear on the unresponsive glass. Three weeks since reactivation of Kepler-186f Station, three weeks of nothing but flickering lights and…
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom The dust tasted like regret and old circuits. Wren coughed, pulling the rebreather tighter against her face. Above, the skeletal remains of Chicago clawed at a bruised sky, less city now than a geological oddity. Not…
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom The chipped Formica countertop felt cold under Leo Maxwell’s elbows. Rain lashed against the diner window, blurring neon signs into smeared streaks of color. He hadn’t slept properly in days, not since the shift, though “sleep”…