As for "Abiogenesis", it is a short story I found in youtube when I was watching a sci-fi movie trailer. This short animated clip plays the scenes of some mechanical insects that landed on a planet where they slurp in greenish substance to their body for a purpose they want to achieve. 

Science fiction is really just about making logical assumption and imagination using the combination or reality and scientific theories. The two sources below pictured a clear image of some good sci-fi imaginations. When trying to imagine things in a sci-fi world, a person shouldn't restrict oneself to a certain border. The more alienated the imaginations are, the better they would be as sci-fi readers would want to find out something new and interesting in the stories they read or the movies they watch. (E.g. mechanical animals in reality are weird, but in the sci-fi world, they are so well-known that author now often used them when making a sci-fi stories/movies.) A good sci-fi movie example is Star Trek (my most favorite sci-fi movie).

Star Trek is a movie set in the future. Most scenes in the movie mostly played in the space and the USS enterprise spaceship. Star trek has so many extra ordinary sci-fi imaginations. From the beginning to end, the movie was accompanied with a lot of advance technological features and future imaginations. 

There was a time when we could see the stars.

There was a time when the sky was more than just an expanse of lonely darkness. There was a time when our star was more than just an unlit circle in a blackened night.

When our ancestors colonized this world, it was gleaming in the radiance of our star, as light as any other untouched planet. It was originally the abundance of precious ores and metals that welcomed our ancestors to this planet, unaware and unafraid of the consequences. Now they are aware of the consequences, now they fear them, they have given this planet a fitting name: Pandora.

After centuries of human inhabitation, much has changed. The ores and metals have gone, the pollution is absolute. We are left in perfect darkness, unable to see our own faces. Scientists have harnessed a mixture of albino genes and ocular implants to allow us to see a vague outline of reality, but apart from that, our minds have to imagine the rest.

Once, a long time ago, the government tried to control the population from outgrowing the food supplies with brutal one-child policies and systematic culling of the decrepit, but now it is not necessary. Now there are more natural controllers. Depression is ubiquitous, statistically shown from the suicide rates. Criminality is rampant, the heart and soul of our society; not through lack of morals, but through necessity. As such, the murder rates are uncontrollably higher than other worlds.

The star that once lit up our world so boldly is fading, and its light can no longer penetrate the fog. Our dying star cannot light up our dying world.

-Extract of The Shadow Planet: A History of Pandora

It is a curse, to be touched by the gods. To see as a god sees, to know as a god knows. This sight, this knowledge, tore him apart. The cybernetic man sat silently with his child on his lap. The scientists, the gods, who had changed him had saved his life, replacing the weak organic, the sick, the living, with the incorruptible steel. He was more robot than flesh now. But it was his enhanced eyes that terrified him the most; he had been granted sight in a blind world, and was now no different from the gods that had made him. Only he, the man touched by the gods, could see. Only he could see his mutilated self. Others could rely on the mundane senses; they could smell the bread in the bakery, trace the outline of their lovers’ face, hear the laughter in another’s voice, and taste the food that they lived off. But he, wounded as he is, has to rely on sight. It was a torture beyond imagination, beyond any other. It was a torture he could not even cry about. The gods had even taken tears away, deeming them useless. They were, of course, aware of the emotional aspects of this; they just did not care. Sometimes he would sit and watch, and try to weep, and wish that the formlessness would come back to him. Like the namesake of the planet, his curiosity for sight had destroyed him.

The cyborg’s daughter looked up at her father’s outline. She cannot see her father’s mutilations, and she never will. Similarly, she cannot see her own face, will never know her lover's eyes, will never have her child’s features ingrained in her heart, as her features are in her father’s. To her, everything is formless, and shall forever remain so. Unlike her father, she has to rely on the outline of a face and the laughter in another’s voice. How she longs, just for a moment, for the fog to lift and for an image to solidify. She yearns for the gift of eyesight that belongs to her father, if only for a moment, so that she could see the world.

Far away, the cyborg sees a family having a picnic. To him, the scene is clear; two blind parents sit with two blind boys, laughing with such the joy that only blindness can bring. To his daughter, the scene is different. Without sight, all merges into one; she hears the laughter, smells the food, but to her they are neither near nor far. They could be right next to her or a thousand miles away. After all, who can judge a distance without sight to aid them? The only thing she felt for certain was the mechanical murmur and electrical heat of her father's chest, just as he feels her organic one.

In a pitch-black dormitory at the bottom of a mine, a father and a daughter sit, a cyborg and his child. In a momentary silence, they each contemplate the nature of the darkness, and unknown to each other, each one wishes for the others’ life.

ABIOGENESIS