Short Stories Collection Thanks
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let’s go exploring! biafra ahanonu short stories collection thanks Would like to thank my family—Sylvia, Owowonta, Adanta, Monica and Eze—for the support throughout the years. And to the science fiction, short story, fantasy, and various other writers, who openedmy imagination and provided a foundation on which to build. began: Sunday 9th November 2008 updated: Saturday 17th August, 2019 stanford university | dept. of biology | bahanonu@stanford.edu short stories *My favorite short stories are in bold. thanks i preface iv canonical 1 in a world too bright .................................. 2 a lovely day in the woods ............................... 4 what is not known ................................... 6 rate ........................................... 8 the paranoid man ................................... 10 selling your soul .................................... 13 filugori ......................................... 17 the heroic ones .................................... 20 broken ......................................... 22 humanity’s gold .................................... 26 death .......................................... 31 two kinds of odd .................................... 34 killer’s army ...................................... 37 freedom in a dying world ............................... 42 setting the record straight ............................... 47 putting the customer first ............................... 51 countdown to equality ................................. 54 weatherman’s god ................................... 58 killing time ....................................... 60 flesh and blood .................................... 64 who needs oxygen? .................................. 67 a lasting impression .................................. 73 when darkness falls .................................. 75 the reporter ...................................... 78 simrun: stage one ................................... 88 sharing minds ..................................... 99 gantis: toward the edge ................................ 103 blue bubble pop .................................... 111 the human abstraction ................................. 114 excess humanity .................................... 116 interaction space .................................... 118 2042: antibiotics ................................... 121 an exhaustive search for the truth ........................... 122 evolving actaeon’s tragedy .............................. 126 a shifty conversation .................................. 130 spanish 133 en el mundo de los dios ................................ 134 los ambiciones equivocados .............................. 136 los suenos mios .................................... 139 ¿qué es la calle? .................................... 144 from the archives 146 55 fiction ........................................ 147 death takes no bribes ................................. 148 dies irae, terras irradient ............................... 149 faux pas ........................................ 151 up next! ........................................ 152 the misunderstanding ................................. 157 just another day .................................... 158 references 160 index 161 preface I love exploring. Whether that be deep into the recesses of my mind, the adventures of countless authors, or the many delightful sights our world has to offer—it never gets old. Unfortunately, the human mind is a bit fragile and memories soon fade, the original idea quickly mutated beyond recognition. To better capture my dreams, life stories, world events, and hone my writing, i’ve begun writing short stories. Most people have dreams soon forgotten upon waking. They get a vague sense of something exhilarating, wondrous, or terrifying. From exploring palaces on alien worlds with massive, pure white halls the size of cities to heart-pounding chases through moss-covered structures of liquid design—the walls morphing shape and changing color—with shadowy figures on our heels, my dreams are equal parts inspiring, terrifying, and motivating. They provide a bottomless well of material that i’ve only begun to drink from and the longing to return to many of the dream-worlds i’ve journeyed through over the years spurs my writing. These factors have guided the production of many short stories and produced some of the better ones in this collection, such as Filugori and The Killer’s Army. Events in my life have lead to some of the more personal stories in the collection, such as What is not Known or The Paranoid Man. In this manner, short stories provide an outlet and a way to analyze what is going on at the time. It is often hard, especially in today’s fast-paced world, to take a step back and evaluate your life from afar. Capturing important moments in a fictional form is one way focus on learning lessons and seeing the big picture. World events have inspired many shorts, Broken and Flesh and Blood amongst the best of them. Broken is an equal parts disturbing and terrifying short about a abused girl and her death, it was inspired by reading into the hardships women forced into the world slave trade—mostly for prostitution—face on a daily basis. Others, like Countdown to Equality, stand as ambiguous stories that both support and attack particular world views, in that case extreme vegetarianism. It should leave the reader thinking and evaluating their own stance on the issue. I believe short stories are an excellent way to digest a topic without all the clutter of real world data occluding clear analysis based on first principles. These short stories are also a way for me to keep my writing sharp. I owe a gratitude to the great writers whose work has shone light on the craft of writing a good short story. Unlike novels, shorts must be mostly unambiguous and have a clear theme or message. In addition, they should leave the reader pondering, often due to a clever twist at the end, such as in Putting the Customer First. I hope you enjoy this collection, comments can be sent to bahanonu@stanford.edu. The blame for any typos or mistakes falls entirely with me. Remember to always keep a sense of wonder and as Bill Watterson so aptly put it in Calvin and Hobbes: “It’s a magical world...let’s go exploring!” -biafra ahanonu canonical canonical | short stories | biafra ahanonu | 1 in a world too bright <LOG> The sun scorched the skin off of my back; below me was an endless throng of citizens, all about to die. How morbid, eh? Haha, well this is my tale, so I’ll start it however I please. If you are reading this, it means you’ve found my journal, flipped through any of the other pages yet? You should, there are some juicy stories sprinkled throughout. Now, you may wonder why I chose to write a tale at the end of my journal (at the end of each mind you). It is because I love myself and the history I have made, it makes it much easier for biographers to read a tale than a mishmash of notes, events and ideas that comprise my journals. Plus, no second hand account can tell the tale as well as me. Well, that is now out of the way, on to the fun stuff. I climbed the rope next to me, it was not safe to take the elevators of these tall buildings, some were built years ago, in another era, one in which those above had the power to control everything. Maybe they do now, but it is less visible. Someone screeched below and the men around her were livid and soon her outcry ended. Oh, what fun! A death a day keeps the spirits alive! But you must think I’m sick by now, do not worry, it is only my nastier self coming forth every once in awhile, it may make my tale a bit hard to read, or even unreliable. I am writing in pen, so excuse the marks. But do not despair! I will ensure he is kept in line (or lined through) and the story remains true. So back to the tale. As I climbed the rope, I surveyed the landscape. What a beautiful sight, the endless rows of buildings that reached the sky, the innumerable bridges that connected them, the deep chasms that defined the old streets below, though I wonder who still traverses there. It has become more efficient to build upwards than to attempt to reclaim the lower levels, which, of course, means this civilization is built on a shaky foundation. Haha, think about it, a couple of well placed bombs in the lower levels and boom! To heaven or hell people shall go! Ignore that. You would expect people to have figured out how to combine cars and planes, after all they could do the same with peanut-butter and jelly or balloons and baskets, what makes flying cars so hard? Well, in any case, we have neither PB&J norflying cars, which is a drag. A train screamed by, at least people had the brains to combine magnets and trains. On inspection it appeared to be empty. So upwards I climbed, the skyline becoming clearer, breathing easier, and shooting quicker! Sorry, that part comes later. The people in the buildings could not notice me, someone had the genius idea to make the two-way mirror in the reverse direction it normally is, helps people with their vertigo. Unfortunately, this also allowed for people like me to more easily pick out our targets, without them having any prior warning. They sky grew dark and I scanned the sky, clouds shouldn’t be around at the moment. A leviathan of a plane flew overhead, thousands of balloons keeping it afloat, along with several other, more intricate tech. Military? You wish, these were the titans of the modern age, the cargo freighters that carrier the world’s demands on their shoulders.