Story cover for Becoming Human by ShikiSun
Becoming Human
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    Reads 69
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    Parts 3
  • WpHistory
    Time 12m
  • WpView
    Reads 69
  • WpVote
    Votes 3
  • WpPart
    Parts 3
  • WpHistory
    Time 12m
Ongoing, First published Oct 24, 2014
A Sci-fi story set in the future of Earth where only a fraction of the population of people are left on the entire earth after the global purge, that which is still ongoing. In this new world, highly advanced AI and androids dominate work in all sectors of all societies in every country under the richest 10% of the population. Only the most intelligent and capable people not in the top 10 percent survive due to discriminatory competition with AI. Individuals unable to compete with the advanced strength and intelligence of highly skilled androids are deemed unworthy by the global council. These few remaining undesirables end up either starving to death or are hunted and slaughtered by advanced military androids, AKA Army Androids(AD's for short) programmed to kill. This story is the account of one such AD and their awakening from the collective of AI consciousnesses and their fateful meeting with Veresa(VERE-SA) a young female human who is the daughter of the leader of one of the largest rebellions against AI and Androids in Post-American Society.
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Lunar Virus ✔️ by its_really_not
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Elodie's life changes at the turn of a doorknob when she is forced into joining a secret organization that claims to be protecting the Earth from aliens. But with every step she takes, she finds the organization, or the facility, as they call it, becoming more and more suspicious. When a mysterious death occurs, revealing a well-concealed secret, things quickly go downhill as humanity's future is placed on the shoulders of a single gaggle of teenagers. *** I hear a sigh from the other side of the door, "Miss. Chaucer, you have a wonderful opportunity here, are you going to take it or not?" Now, I am seriously confused, "Opportunity?" She takes advantage of my befuddled state and shoves the door open. Shit. The corners of her mouth pull up, and it's so unnatural, it takes me a moment to realize she's smiling. Major plastic surgery? Probably. Click. Did she just lock the door? She locked the door! I spring towards the house phone, dusty from years of doing absolutely nothing, so I can call the police. I don't make it. Halfway there, I trip on my own pant-leg and face plant on the floor. The woman steps over me and retrieves the phone. She looks at it as if it's a foreign object, "This won't be necessary. All I want to do is talk to you." For some reason, instead of screaming, I stay silent. She smiles and pulls out a chair from the kitchen table for me to sit on. When I don't sit, she says, "If you want to know what's going on, then sit." I think about it for a moment. She hasn't hurt me yet, and I have to admit, I am quite curious as to what's going on. So, call me stupid, but I sit down. "I am from a space organization that protects civilians from . . . outside threats." *** Beautiful cover made by @mahana258! HR: 203 in science fiction (5/8/18) Completed on August 15th, 2018 (Indian independence day!) *******This is not a zombie novel
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In the future, science has found a way to re-animate the dead and make them pliant servants for the wealthy. They buy the units for 10,000 for a base model. More attractive units sell higher as well as the more physically fit the model is the higher the price. The units are used for anything and everything their owner wants, from household work to administrative duties, to even being sexual companions. They are each programmed with a hard drive in their brain that works like a computer and allows them to have a quick mind and agility, as well as nano machines in their body to repair any damage that can occur with normal usage. There are some people who still view the units as a dead body and have trouble interacting with them in their daily life. But most of the population is too poor to even afford one so this problem is left to the upper classes that can buy the units. For some, poverty is worse than death. For one Porcelyn, death is just the start.