Welcome to Quantum Dream Studio
Flash sci-fi stories from parallel universes
Featured Stories
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Another Try
The rusted metal door groaned as Eli pried it open with his crowbar, releasing decades of stale air into the harsh afternoon light. He pulled his scarf tighter around his face, protecting against both the ever-present dust and whatever might be lingering inside the bunker.
5th Dimension
Takumi Nakamura stared at his data terminal, heart racing as the numbers on his screen defied everything he knew about physics. As lead physicist at the Tokyo Quantum Observatory, he had dedicated his life to understanding the universe’s constants. Now, those constants were changing before his eyes.
Final Voyage
The research vessel Prometheus drifted silently through the void, its sensors extended like curious fingers into the darkness. It had been 3,427 years, 216 days, 14 hours, and 37 seconds since its last communication with Earth.
Frozen Horizon
The air recyclers hummed their familiar drone as I packed my meager belongings. Bunker 42 had been home for ten years—since the bombs fell and the world turned to ash and ice.
Recent Stories
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Another Try
The rusted metal door groaned as Eli pried it open with his crowbar, releasing decades of stale air into the harsh afternoon light. He pulled his scarf tighter around his face, protecting against both the ever-present dust and whatever might be lingering inside the bunker.
5th Dimension
Takumi Nakamura stared at his data terminal, heart racing as the numbers on his screen defied everything he knew about physics. As lead physicist at the Tokyo Quantum Observatory, he had dedicated his life to understanding the universe’s constants. Now, those constants were changing before his eyes.
Final Voyage
The research vessel Prometheus drifted silently through the void, its sensors extended like curious fingers into the darkness. It had been 3,427 years, 216 days, 14 hours, and 37 seconds since its last communication with Earth.
Mechanical Witness
They called him Milo. His designation was Pediatric Care Unit PCU-9, but the hospital staff found it easier to give him a name, especially since his emotional subroutines had developed far beyond his original programming.
Frozen Horizon
The air recyclers hummed their familiar drone as I packed my meager belongings. Bunker 42 had been home for ten years—since the bombs fell and the world turned to ash and ice.
Echo
Captain Markov activated the final sample. The artificial gravity hummed quietly, holding them in orbit around the nameless planet. Forty-three days of research, and tomorrow—home.
