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Oddy
July 7th, 2007, 03:38 PM
Not sure if this is where to post it? This is my first story, so I pretty much think it's horrible.:D

At the Science Fiction Café, in the center of Los Angeles, one must know the secret password to enter. Although passwords may seem cliché, even in the center of the town where apes can talk and superheroes come to life, it is necessary. Hollywood executives from large studios would love to enter the café and get new movie ideas from the nerds that roam in the wilderness of science. But they can’t, because the Hollywood big-timers have their heads so far up their a** that they couldn’t guess the password if it was stamped on their forehead (knowing to look in the mirror would make the challenge all the more difficult).
As Jim moved from wet pavement to white limestone, he enjoyed the inner transformation-taking place. He could forget about his life as an unsuccessful architect with a failing marriage. He would make it up to Rachel, she would love him again, even if it would take all the magic in the world. Jim didn’t believe in magic though, so he would have to invent something to gain her love again.
The Science Fiction Café sat in the center of a green delicious park with trees of many varieties sprouting up into the skies. Benches sat those trying to figure out the password, but mainly just pedestrians who found the park attractive and needed a rest from their hectic lives. The cafe existed underground. Jim walked along the pathway noticing children chasing butterflies of extravagance only Koontz could describe. He reached a 10 by 20 steel building, 10 feet high. This door required no password; one would walk inside and wait for the elevator.
Neon lights woke Jim from is daydream, and he entered the elevator alone. The ambience was the same, an all mirrored elevator with ululations of alien species coming from the speakers. After being taken to the landing, the elevator would not open. Instead, inside the elevator were four keyboards. If one entered the wrong password, a creature so hideously spiked with four arms would appear here inside the elevator that those who entered the password incorrectly would not bother to try and argue entrance. Jim never had the wrath of this creature placed upon him, but witnessed a well known studio executive cry for his “wee-wa” when the creature joined him on his ascent to normal. Jim figured no science fiction author could guess what a “wee-wa” was either.
Used to the alien noises in the speaker, Jim put in the password to the domain:
ENDER
Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card, considered a top ten science fiction novel by everyone in the café, was the password. Although not impossible to guess if you have any love for science fiction, if clueless, you’d be stuck entering “DNA” or “Star Wars”.
After hearing the swoosh of doors opening, Jim walked down a dimly lit corridor to the ladder. When Ralph Johnson first opened the café ten years ago, he wanted to have the entrance to the restaurant be creative. Jim walked, ready to experience the magnificent entrance to the room. At the top of the ladder was a bright, blinding light, and heading up, he closed his eyes as he expected what was to come. Head through stomach, Jim appeared out of the body of Kane from the movie Alien. Here in the center of the Science Fiction Café was a wax recreation of the infamous chest-bursting scene. Jim got chills as he stepped off the recreated table.
“Jimmy, my boy, take a seat at the bar for once.”
Ralph was running the bar of the café today. He was probably in his late fifties, but he looked a century older. Ralph has shy eyes that would force forgiveness of any L.A. cop. His white hair flew into the air in a complete mess; as a man with a long dead wife by cancer, Ralph’s life was the café.
Despite the bloody entrance and outer appearance of an extraterrestrial slab of steel in the middle of the park, the café was pretty ordinary. Dusty wooden floors and walls, booths with worn red cushions, and tables half cracked made up the interior of the haven. Hanging on the walls were famous movie posters, pictures of famous sci-fi characters, and a book shelf with thousands of famous science fiction works. A fireplace in the rear of the café with multiple leather armchairs allowed for quiet reading for those who wished.
Taking a seat at the bar, Jim noticed the place was unusually empty. Jim, Ralph, and two men and one woman he knew were at the bar. All booths and tables were empty.
“What was the password before I came here Ralph?” Jim asked while taking a seat.
“I’ve told you a hundred times Jim, it was DICK, after Philip K.”
“Why change it?”
Jim did this almost every time he came; he loved the story and the way Ralph tried to overcome the routine. He wasn’t sick, just entertained by the sick.
“Jimmy, before I die from intense interrogation, can you give it a break this time.”
“You’ll be dead soon anyway Ralphie, whatever treatment the scientists made for you can’t last any longer.”
“Alright Jim, and I’ll die later rather than sooner. I think the Shrike might hand me a cruciform any day now.”
“I’ll be sure to build your cross. So what happened to change the password?”
“A crazy, sick, psychotic cop guessed Dick because his hormones must have been running high. He came in and tried to rape one of our female customers. Unfortunately, we only had Vader and not the Shrike.”
“And he took the lightsaber and…”
“Boys, please.”
Emma Roberts. The most gorgeous nerd Jim laid eyes on. Her golden long hair, sharp green eyes, and perfectly smooth face made her a looker even for Brad Pitt. Jim hardly said more than “Hi” or “See last week’s Heroes?” to her. She must have been disturbed by the story one time to many.
“Sorry darling, Jim here is a good guy, just a bit too sarcastic even for my own sake.”
“Sorry Em.”
She nodded with appreciation. Jim’s food came out (Ralph knew Jim’s favorite and saw his entrance to the tomb from cameras). While digging into his grilled cheese with crispy bacon and mouth-watering crunchy fries ,Jim barely heard Ralph say he would be right back after going into the back. The two other men at the bar were older than he and Em, both in their early thirties. The first man was Dr. Ryan Hill, a college professor at UCLA. He was intelligent, but not pompous. His horn-rimmed glasses slid down his face as he took a bite out of his burger. A nod when entering the building acknowledged Jim’s entrance. Krazy was seated at the end of the bar. Krazy wasn’t his real name, but Jim never brought up enough courage to ask the man. Krazy wasn’t rape your mother crazy, just slightly obnoxious and out of his head in his opinions. Krazy was an author himself, and used the ideas in the café and his love of language to create some amazing tales that Ralph had stored on the shelves. Some tended to be too grotesque even for Jim. Krazy wore a long brown trench coat now, as if he was about to walk through a teleport system into a planet drenched in rain.
While chewing some fries, Jim almost dared an innocent look at Em’s behind. Instead, he thought of a book he recently read, and the implications it had on his theories of time travel. He finished Dean Koontz’s Lightning last night, and enjoyed it immensely. Although not a typical science fiction author, he considered Koontz a guilty pleasure in the world of authors. Koontz explained time travel rather simply, you cannot go into the past (avoiding all paradoxes) but only into the future. Of course, going five minutes into the future to kill the President would change the future twenty years forward. Would this then in turn create a new branched reality, or was the new future poured over the old one. The debate of branching realities with time travel was a significant one to understand the intricacies of time travel. Koontz took a bit of a cop-out with his explanation in preventing the meeting of a future and present version of the same person: the machine wouldn’t allow it. Jim thought this was a bit cheap, but understood why Koontz did it.
Ralph walked back behind the bar and refilled Jim’s coke while asking, “So what you been up to my boy.”
“Well I just finished this Koontz book, Lightning.”
Krazy decided to join the conversation with his mouth full, “Good book, but the explanation of time travel was too easy for me.”
With a rasp not quite a rasp, Ralph interjected, “I found it quite acceptable, Koontz was able to prevent the ‘kill your grandfather’ paradox from being brought up.”
“But no scientist would build a time machine that can’t go into the past,” said Krazy.
“Would you go back into time and kill your grandfather ?” Em joined the conversation casually, her words flowing beautifully from her lips.
“Yes, I would dear lady. And don’t question me on my conscience, or fear of lack of existence. It would just branch a new reality where I didn’t exist.”
Dr. Hill slid up his glasses and entered the debate.
“But you wouldn’t exist in the first place sir. Branching realities do overlap.”
“The only thing that can explain the grandfather clause is alternate worlds being brought into existence with every time travel,” countered Krazy.”
“Unless of course time travel doesn’t exist.” Em again, beautiful, intelligent.
“I agree,” said Jim, “Time travel absolutely doesn’t exist. If it does, let someone come back to us right now.” Jim’s sarcasm was clearly evident.
Jim and Em were obviously playing devil’s advocate, but Krazy just was too crazy to know that.”
“Erroneous, you two are crazy. We don’t know time travel exists because of the branching realities.”
“But do we believe time exists constantly, past, present, and future all at the same time? I tend to hope it doesn’t. I hope that Hitler doesn’t kill all the Jews constantly forever and ever,” responded Dr. Hill.
“Or that my wife is dying again now.” The sadness in Ralph’s voice was evident.
Jim and Emma started speaking at the same time, but a ripple in the air stopped them. The ripple got bigger and bigger until a leg appeared in the air. Then a arm. Then a head. Everyone’s eyes turned to Jim. The man looked like Jim but a few years older. He sat down and ordered the same thing present Jim currently was eating as if his entrance was less crazy than the chest bursting one. The ripple in the air imploded itself silently.
“Someone would call me crazy if I didn’t ask who the f*** you are.” The irony made the group smile at Krazy’s words.
With not quite a laser, and not quite a bullet, some projection hit Krazy in the heart. Death found it’s way to this man early. Good riddance thought Jim, not quite sure why.
“I only have a few more seconds before I am forced to return. The man I just killed would become…problematic in the near future. And don’t worry my friends, time travel should be explained in a few decaded. Find patience, and gratification of knowledge will come.” The traveler stopped speaking and disappeared in an exit almost as magnificent as the one provided in the café. Krazy’s body did the same a few seconds afterwards. After a long, dreadful silence, Jim decided to delay the need to ask about what just occurred.
“Let me get a milkshake Ralphie.”
“Here too.”
“I concur.”
The four settled with vanilla and chocolate milkshakes, talking about science fiction, because only here could a time traveling assassin not raise red alerts. For all they knew, the apocalypse had already begun outside this chamber.
“He looked like you Jim,” stated Ralph, with a bit too much worry.
“I thought he was pretty cute.” Emma turned her head and winked at Jim. He knew his life couldn’t be any better.

kater
July 7th, 2007, 05:14 PM
Welcome to sffworld Oddy, no worries with this one but in future if you could post your stories to the community section: http://www.sffworld.com/community/
(Just click the 'log in here' link below the Become a member heading and you'll go to your own community panel for Stories, Poems, Pictures and a Blog)

Then put up a critique thread (there's loads here in the writing forum) with a link to the story, asking what people think and the nice folks here will give you some feedback :) Let me know if you need any help with the Community bit.