Unread
by Charlie Foxtrot
Copyright© 2026 by Charlie Foxtrot
Science Fiction Story: A Purist's whole life is the discipline of not looking. Unread is the day that discipline meets the one thing he can't afford to miss.
Tags: GameLit Science Fiction
When I saw the streak in the sky, I knew it would be valuable. Med-techs always wanted samples from any Unintegrated flotsam and jetsam. They paid, no questions asked.
Lioraen worried about getting home in time. I worried about having enough time to harvest some of the wreckage. I could use the credits. I would use them on Lioraen, but couldn’t tell her that.
She looked at her handheld, then at the sun, and finally nodded. “Two hours, then we turn back to town. I can’t be out here all night with you, Eryn. Father would not tolerate that.”
Eryndar, that was me. Only Lioraen and my mother got to call me Eryn.
“Look!”
Her voice jerked my eyes back to the sky. The flotsam was breaking up. Usually they streaked down to a fiery death in a small crater. A mid-air breakup was different.
“It will be harder to find if it doesn’t crater,” I said.
Lioraen grabbed my hand, pulling, hurrying us toward the southwest where it looked like the closest portion would fall. “We’ll find it. Come on.”
That was Lioraen, energetic and committed once a decision was made. Fearless, once a decision was made. It was one aspect that made her so attractive. I would learn what those words cost.
Her strawberry-blonde hair whipped about her head as she looked from the sky to me. It was my job to keep an eye on where we were going.
We were fit, young, and carrying minimal gear, so we pressed our pace. I activated my tracker. There were few dangers on the plains to our southwest, but safety was drilled into us from childhood. I also knew distances could be deceiving. The boom of impact was muted, but a small trickle of smoke dancing into the sky told us we were still on the right track.
“Do you have sample packs?” I asked as we slowed going up a rolling hill. I felt we were getting close.
“Of course. Do you?”
Sample packs were standard. Unique specimens paid well.
“Yes. For being worried about the time, you seem awful keen to find something.”
She slowed. Her lips weren’t quite pressed into a frown, but she dropped her chin and looked at me. She bit her top lip. “You’ll think I’m silly.”
The tone told me it was a genuine worry. “I won’t. What?”
“Dad works at Cryden Bioanalytics. I want to work there too. An interesting sample would look good on my application.”
We’d been dating for over a year, and this was the first mention of it. “You’re smart enough to work there,” I said.
Her smile was my reward, along with her tugging my hand and speeding up once more.
We crested the rise and saw ... something.
I had expected a crater and there was one, but not a deep gash. It was more like a boulder had dropped from a couple hundred meters up and embedded itself in the turf until it was half-buried.
A flicker in my vision. I let it go. Since childhood, we learned to ignore the pesky notification the Integration tried to distract us with.
Live in the moment. Pay attention.
Those were the mantras of our creed. The overlay was a distraction to getting on with our human lives.
“Oh my God,” Lioraen said. “It’s mostly intact.”
Before I could stop her, she was moving down the slope toward the boulder-shaped piece of flotsam.
“Lioraen!” I called after her. Something was not right with this.
She didn’t slow.
My vision flickered again. I refused to pay it any attention. The woman I loved was heading toward something dangerous.
I pulled my pistol and followed.
We knew better than openly exposing ourselves to the alien bio-tech of the Unintegrated. At least we thought we did.
Lioraen was pulling on her full-face respirator mask even as she hurried down the hill. Next were the double gloves, one pair of pale thin-form gloves med-techs wore, the other tighter synthetic leather to prevent abrasion or cuts.
I was less decisive. My mask was in place, but I didn’t want to holster my pistol. An intact artifact could hold anything.
Lioraen glanced back over her shoulder, slowing. “Put the pistol away and glove up.”
I stopped. Holstered my pistol. Pulled on my gloves. School training reinforced by the real world.
[Thr-] I dismissed the image forming in my vision without a second thought.
Not now.
Lioraen resumed her pace.
My pistol felt less comforting through the material of the gloves. I focused on pulling two sample containers from my belt-pack. Twenty-five meters. I was close enough to reliably hit anything that popped up.
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