Hugh J. O'Donnell

From the roof of his tower, the astrologer made careful observations of the star. For the last three nights, its brilliance had steadily increased. It was even visible during the day. The light was a portent of great change in the world, but he would have to consult all his lore to determine if it was an omen for good or ill.
Fifty lightyears away, the energy harvesting experiments pushed the star into going nova early. The scientists did what they could to slow the reaction, but the result was inevitable. They only hoped that someone would see their warning.

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He stands on the shore and watches the island. One of the planet’s moons rises against it, and in that instant, holographic projectors spring to life, and there she is, a giant limned in the moonlight.
She is regal and ethereal, a goddess presiding over a bountiful and lush paradise. He crosses his arms and doesn’t say anything, waiting for the spectacle she called him for to begin.
“It’s not working out, John. Sorry.”
The dronaratzi cameras circle him like flies, and he remains stoic. He’ll call his people, and they’ll spin this. He never should have dated an actress.

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Georgiana wasn’t merely a purebred dog, but the result of decades of genetic engineering. She was friendly, brave, and highly intelligent. She didn’t have the health problems of dogs her size, and obviously, she was adorable. She took the internet by storm.
But the trouble started soon after she was gestated.
She was the work of thousands of scientists working for dozens of companies, and each entity felt they should have sole ownership of the research. The lawsuits would’ve lasted beyond the dog’s natural lifespan.
But nobody expected Georgiana, with the help of a soundboard, to retain her own counsel.

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Everywhere she looked, she saw skulls. They were carved into the tops of the bulkheads, sewn into the flags that lined the ship corridors, and of course, sewn into all her regalia. They were even worked heavily into the swarm of security and tutor drones that trailed her like goldfish dung.
The Skull was the symbol of their house, and synonymous with their motto: ‘We are as inescapable as death.’
But as the ship reached another distant planet, she wondered if that were really true. She began memorizing schedules and shuttle codes, dreaming of the day she could wear flowers.

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