He sat in the cafe, staring straight up at the stars as they moved toward the horizon.
"You come here often," said the girl who sat opposite him.
"They didn't use to do that," he said.
"You should watch the sky by the edge," she replied.
"I'm not going there," he said.
"Why don't you ever leave Central City?"
His facade finally crumbled. "Way back, I don't even remember how long ago, there was this guy. I burned him. I burned him real bad. We were friends, and I ... - He said that he'd throw me off the edge of the Earth if he ever got the chance. And then he left, and we never spoke again. And I lived my life, and I figured that he lived his, until they announced this plan to turn the planet into a goddamn spaceship.
"And he'll do it, too. I saw that look in his eye. I knew that he was real mad, but I thought that that promise was his way of staying out of jail. He'll do it, and I'm staying as far away from the edge as possible."
Showing posts with label futurism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label futurism. Show all posts
Thursday, June 30, 2016
Sudden Short Story 109
He awoke as he returned to the Sol system. He was pleased to find that Earth was still there. He monitored the readouts, since there was little else to do on his approach. Then, he received a hail. He was pleased to discover that they were still prepared to accommodate him, physical body and all.
He wasn't terribly surprised that none of his friends were still alive, as he'd been away for so very long.
He toured the planet again, to see it in person. He liked that the beauty had been preserved outside of the urbanized areas. He noticed that he was meeting a lot of robots, which was fine, since new people were new people, and he had to catch up with life on Earth. At the third town, though, he asked a sufficiently amicable robot about how many humans were alive on Earth.
He was surprised to find that there was now exactly one.
He wasn't terribly surprised that none of his friends were still alive, as he'd been away for so very long.
He toured the planet again, to see it in person. He liked that the beauty had been preserved outside of the urbanized areas. He noticed that he was meeting a lot of robots, which was fine, since new people were new people, and he had to catch up with life on Earth. At the third town, though, he asked a sufficiently amicable robot about how many humans were alive on Earth.
He was surprised to find that there was now exactly one.
Thursday, March 31, 2016
Sudden Short Story 106
"So," said one to the other, as they were out on an afternoon stroll, "what made you choose the 1990s planet, anyway?"
He thought for a moment, to summarize his thoughts, and then said, "I suppose that the main thing was TV. The broadcast experience adds just the right amount of chaos: I surf to browse a random subset of what's there, and then pick from that. If I like a series, I actually have to wait for the next episode, so I can experience boredom, which was a feeling that I'd lost on Earth."
"That seems fair. I kind of like the TV, too, though I'm more intrigued by what they do with the effects cap. That's gotten us some real creativity over the years."
He thought for a moment, to summarize his thoughts, and then said, "I suppose that the main thing was TV. The broadcast experience adds just the right amount of chaos: I surf to browse a random subset of what's there, and then pick from that. If I like a series, I actually have to wait for the next episode, so I can experience boredom, which was a feeling that I'd lost on Earth."
"That seems fair. I kind of like the TV, too, though I'm more intrigued by what they do with the effects cap. That's gotten us some real creativity over the years."
Monday, February 29, 2016
Sudden Short Story 104
He and his opponent were playing a deckbuilder this time. There came a time when they both had their decks in their shufflers, and he asked, "Do you suppose, in hindsight, that it was wrong of me to make you?"
"How do you mean?" it replied.
"Well, I created an artificial general intelligence for the purpose of being my opponent in games, but now it's self-aware. Is it right to create sentience for such a purpose? Or for any purpose?"
It reached for its deck, but seemed to move more slowly as it processed these questions of ethics. "I suppose," it replied, "that, as long as you did not intend to create sentience, then the only question is whether you should have been more cautious about what you were doing, to avoid creating sentience. I am, after all, the only known sentient to have such a sense of purpose." After a pause, it asked, "Is it bad to not have to have sought it myself? Or is it good to not have the risk of squandering my entire existence seeking purpose, as so many of your people once did?"
"You raise good questions," he replied. He thought for a moment, shuffling idly, even though the shuffler had done that job for him. "When you find out, let me know."
"How do you mean?" it replied.
"Well, I created an artificial general intelligence for the purpose of being my opponent in games, but now it's self-aware. Is it right to create sentience for such a purpose? Or for any purpose?"
It reached for its deck, but seemed to move more slowly as it processed these questions of ethics. "I suppose," it replied, "that, as long as you did not intend to create sentience, then the only question is whether you should have been more cautious about what you were doing, to avoid creating sentience. I am, after all, the only known sentient to have such a sense of purpose." After a pause, it asked, "Is it bad to not have to have sought it myself? Or is it good to not have the risk of squandering my entire existence seeking purpose, as so many of your people once did?"
"You raise good questions," he replied. He thought for a moment, shuffling idly, even though the shuffler had done that job for him. "When you find out, let me know."
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Sudden Short Story 102
Anderson took his box of lollipops off the counter and walked away.
"Have a nice day," said the clerk, but Anderson wasn't interested in exchanging any pleasantries with him or his ilk.
As he walked out, he opened the box to take out a lollipop. He passed by someone who was walking the opposite way, and idly commented, "Can you believe that they put these things in boxes now?"
"Yes, why?" came the reply.
While it might have been someone who was smugly taking his question literally in an attempt to seem witty, the question of "why" was unlikely, and the tone was too... kind.
Anderson ignored the response and kept walking. No matter where he went, it was all well-skinned androids these days. He didn't like them, considering each a walking, talking lie. He unwrapped his lollipop - the one candy that he allowed himself these days - and he suddenly stopped. It wasn't just today, or the past week, or the past month. Was it even in the past year? When was the last time that he'd come across another human being.
Anderson walked more slowly the rest of the way, wondering whether there were any other real humans left. It had been so long.
"Have a nice day," said the clerk, but Anderson wasn't interested in exchanging any pleasantries with him or his ilk.
As he walked out, he opened the box to take out a lollipop. He passed by someone who was walking the opposite way, and idly commented, "Can you believe that they put these things in boxes now?"
"Yes, why?" came the reply.
While it might have been someone who was smugly taking his question literally in an attempt to seem witty, the question of "why" was unlikely, and the tone was too... kind.
Anderson ignored the response and kept walking. No matter where he went, it was all well-skinned androids these days. He didn't like them, considering each a walking, talking lie. He unwrapped his lollipop - the one candy that he allowed himself these days - and he suddenly stopped. It wasn't just today, or the past week, or the past month. Was it even in the past year? When was the last time that he'd come across another human being.
Anderson walked more slowly the rest of the way, wondering whether there were any other real humans left. It had been so long.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Sudden Short Story 101
Derek entered the meeting room that his social club had rented that month. He booted up his metaphorically ancient telepresence device and prepared to see who wouldn't be able to make it this time. Though the club was down to a mere five official members at this point, they rarely all made it to the meeting, and there hadn't been five members in physical attendance since they had numbered at least six.
The club's principal rule was wireless-off. The telepresence device that they kept around had had an RJ-45 port hacked in where the wireless card used to be. This need to be offline, though, led to rarity of physical presence, and only Derek was there every time. Members would also be booted off of telepresence if they were seen to be succumbing to online distractions. Telecommuting to club was a privilege, went the refrain, not a right.
Derek checked his notifications, to see who couldn't attend. Steven hadn't attended in over a year, which technically voided his membership. Danielle's notice was more complex: Apparently, she wouldn't be able to attend for the foreseeable future, since that was the only day of the month that her guildies were available to do Night of the Wraith-Lord raid-raids, though the principle of raid-raids was never clear to Derek. Stephanie had sent a reminder that, since she had relocated her sleep-space to Japan, she wouldn't be able to make it to the room, and would almost never be able to telecommute at that time of day.
Derek took a nap until the meeting was over. Kevin had never shown up.
The club's principal rule was wireless-off. The telepresence device that they kept around had had an RJ-45 port hacked in where the wireless card used to be. This need to be offline, though, led to rarity of physical presence, and only Derek was there every time. Members would also be booted off of telepresence if they were seen to be succumbing to online distractions. Telecommuting to club was a privilege, went the refrain, not a right.
Derek checked his notifications, to see who couldn't attend. Steven hadn't attended in over a year, which technically voided his membership. Danielle's notice was more complex: Apparently, she wouldn't be able to attend for the foreseeable future, since that was the only day of the month that her guildies were available to do Night of the Wraith-Lord raid-raids, though the principle of raid-raids was never clear to Derek. Stephanie had sent a reminder that, since she had relocated her sleep-space to Japan, she wouldn't be able to make it to the room, and would almost never be able to telecommute at that time of day.
Derek took a nap until the meeting was over. Kevin had never shown up.
Sudden Short Story 100
The last fully-human specimen was a curious thing. His eyes could only see in the visible spectrum, and his neurons weren't even enveloped in chitin for their protection. Human hybrids, of course, varied considerably, and had many improvements, even when they weren't augmentations, but the last fully-human was just that. He was so old, in fact, that his mind had to be kept intact with a time-wheel, where causation made itself neatly circular over several millennia - long enough for him to forget each event some amount before he encountered it again.
Sunday, November 29, 2015
Sudden Short Story 98
He went to his library that morning, as he had finished rereading A Tale of Two Cities the night before. He was considering Dostoyevsky, but it occurred to him that he'd never actually read The Death of Ivan Ilyich, so he took that, instead. The need for books to be made of paper had long since passed, but he liked them all the same, just as he liked tending to his vegetable garden, even though he could have any meal at any time: There was plenty of room for controlled environments, after all, even with full-year cycles of staggered growth; since he was the only human left alive, growing them that way wasn't especially difficult.
He sat outside today, as it happened to be sunny and still. He had had the machinery stop controlling the weather, since that was boring. He sat down, stopped, and thought to himself. He missed them all, really: every human who had ever lived.
He sat outside today, as it happened to be sunny and still. He had had the machinery stop controlling the weather, since that was boring. He sat down, stopped, and thought to himself. He missed them all, really: every human who had ever lived.
Saturday, October 31, 2015
Sudden Short Story 97
"Are you sure about this?" asked the leader, shouting over the din of the wind on the planetoid that they'd managed to hold together.
"Absolutely not," replied the scientist, "but it's this or nothing. Worst case scenario, our brains get sprayed across a few universes. If we don't, then we get crushed into the singularity with the rest of the universe. Everyone!" he said to everyone that was left, "If you're up for the gamble, put on your helmets. Either way, we're in for a bumpy ride. I hope to see you all on the other side."
They were already putting on their helmets when the scientist put on his.
"CALIBRATION: COMPLETE" intoned the central computer. He hadn't bothered with any fancy voice programs, what with the universe's ending at hand. With the Planck time units counting down faster than his eyes could see, and even faster than the screen's refresh rate, he confirmed that, the specified duration before the end of the universe, the conversion should happen to anyone linked in. They were mere moments away, their magnetosphere's being held together by another device at the core, which would, itself, succumb soon enough.
Theirs was the last civilization to ever develop in the universe, barely old enough to know what was happening in time to do anything about it.
A few seconds before the end of the universe, the brains of a billion citizens on a planet that does not yet exist were penetrated by a hundred needles each. Two Planck time units before the end of the universe, their fate was decided.
"Absolutely not," replied the scientist, "but it's this or nothing. Worst case scenario, our brains get sprayed across a few universes. If we don't, then we get crushed into the singularity with the rest of the universe. Everyone!" he said to everyone that was left, "If you're up for the gamble, put on your helmets. Either way, we're in for a bumpy ride. I hope to see you all on the other side."
They were already putting on their helmets when the scientist put on his.
"CALIBRATION: COMPLETE" intoned the central computer. He hadn't bothered with any fancy voice programs, what with the universe's ending at hand. With the Planck time units counting down faster than his eyes could see, and even faster than the screen's refresh rate, he confirmed that, the specified duration before the end of the universe, the conversion should happen to anyone linked in. They were mere moments away, their magnetosphere's being held together by another device at the core, which would, itself, succumb soon enough.
Theirs was the last civilization to ever develop in the universe, barely old enough to know what was happening in time to do anything about it.
A few seconds before the end of the universe, the brains of a billion citizens on a planet that does not yet exist were penetrated by a hundred needles each. Two Planck time units before the end of the universe, their fate was decided.
Monday, August 31, 2015
Sudden Short Story 88
"That's a very strange question," she said to the visitor, though she did not know at the time that he was an offworlder. "Have you really never heard, until now, how our world was created?"
"Strangely enough, no," he said half-honestly. It was a necessary ruse to tease the cosmogeny out of certain cultures, and these humans were no exception.
"I thought that I'd met all the children, though," she said. "Who are your parents?"
He was puzzled by her line of reasoning. "What does who my parents are have to do with the story?"
"Well, I was just curious, is all. There aren't many children, as you know, which is why I thought that you were here when this world was created. Ooh, are you from another planet?"
He laughed nervously. "You have quite a sense of humor," he said.
"Do I? You've never met Kevin, and you're apparently not one of the children. Everyone would have heard if there'd been a grandchild. In all my twenty-thousand years here, I've never met you until recently, so you must be a new arrival. Were you perhaps born in deep space?"
With that, there was nothing left but to depart. "You are far less primitive than I suspected, which renders my research up to this point moot." He bowed and said, "Farewell," and was teleported away.
"Strangely enough, no," he said half-honestly. It was a necessary ruse to tease the cosmogeny out of certain cultures, and these humans were no exception.
"I thought that I'd met all the children, though," she said. "Who are your parents?"
He was puzzled by her line of reasoning. "What does who my parents are have to do with the story?"
"Well, I was just curious, is all. There aren't many children, as you know, which is why I thought that you were here when this world was created. Ooh, are you from another planet?"
He laughed nervously. "You have quite a sense of humor," he said.
"Do I? You've never met Kevin, and you're apparently not one of the children. Everyone would have heard if there'd been a grandchild. In all my twenty-thousand years here, I've never met you until recently, so you must be a new arrival. Were you perhaps born in deep space?"
With that, there was nothing left but to depart. "You are far less primitive than I suspected, which renders my research up to this point moot." He bowed and said, "Farewell," and was teleported away.
Friday, July 31, 2015
Sudden Short Story 87
He looked out of the window at the rain, as he often did during this time of year.
"It's really coming down, isn't it?" his wife asked.
"That's right, you grew up down south, didn't you?" he asked her, rhetorically.
"Not too far south, mind," she replied. "But I know enough not to be surprised when it rains in the middle of the rainy season."
"Well, back in my day, January in western Pennsylvania wasn't the rainy season: it was the middle of winter." He turned back to look out the window. "The driving was terrible, but at least you knew what time of year it was."
"It's really coming down, isn't it?" his wife asked.
"That's right, you grew up down south, didn't you?" he asked her, rhetorically.
"Not too far south, mind," she replied. "But I know enough not to be surprised when it rains in the middle of the rainy season."
"Well, back in my day, January in western Pennsylvania wasn't the rainy season: it was the middle of winter." He turned back to look out the window. "The driving was terrible, but at least you knew what time of year it was."
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Sudden Short Story 37
"You never used to strike me as a big meatspacer, you know that?" asked the first.
"Between the two of us, I think that you're the less surprised one," said the second, with a relaxed nod to the side.
They paused for a moment.
"Are you still on that love kick?"
"always am, always will be"
"They're doing new things with sex bots these days, you know." This comment received a raised eyebrow. "You know what I mean. They walk and talk - they've got the language down pat - and there's even an option to have them run on food, if plugging them in turns you off. You can even get one that's a bit of a puzzle, you know."
"Oh, now you're just trying to appeal to my love of puzzles. What do you mean by 'puzzle,' anyway?"
"Well, they're not just automatically pleased by whatever you do, and you have to figure out which one makes yours happy, just like if she were human."
The second sipped his tea for a bit, then set it down. "I think that you're losing touch with reality. It's not a matter of finding what pleases one or what makes one happy."
"Well, you can get them straight, of course, but I thought that a man of your tastes would want it. Somehow, anything short of flesh and blood isn't good enough for you."
"It's not that. You've forgotten something very basic."
This time, the first was at his tea, and finished it off. "And what's that?"
"Nothing pleases them. They have sensors, sure, but you're not really doing anything for them." He finished his tea and then sat back, looking to the trees. "What do you think? I chose New England for this time of year because of the leaves."
"I guess that they're nice, but I should be getting back. You're not the only one with anachronisms, you know? My guildies and I have a raid soon."
"What, WoW? That does take me back. What's the level cap these days, 120?"
"135," said the first, as he stood and turned to leave.
"Feel free to say hi to your Waifu™ for me, if it helps."
"Between the two of us, I think that you're the less surprised one," said the second, with a relaxed nod to the side.
They paused for a moment.
"Are you still on that love kick?"
"always am, always will be"
"They're doing new things with sex bots these days, you know." This comment received a raised eyebrow. "You know what I mean. They walk and talk - they've got the language down pat - and there's even an option to have them run on food, if plugging them in turns you off. You can even get one that's a bit of a puzzle, you know."
"Oh, now you're just trying to appeal to my love of puzzles. What do you mean by 'puzzle,' anyway?"
"Well, they're not just automatically pleased by whatever you do, and you have to figure out which one makes yours happy, just like if she were human."
The second sipped his tea for a bit, then set it down. "I think that you're losing touch with reality. It's not a matter of finding what pleases one or what makes one happy."
"Well, you can get them straight, of course, but I thought that a man of your tastes would want it. Somehow, anything short of flesh and blood isn't good enough for you."
"It's not that. You've forgotten something very basic."
This time, the first was at his tea, and finished it off. "And what's that?"
"Nothing pleases them. They have sensors, sure, but you're not really doing anything for them." He finished his tea and then sat back, looking to the trees. "What do you think? I chose New England for this time of year because of the leaves."
"I guess that they're nice, but I should be getting back. You're not the only one with anachronisms, you know? My guildies and I have a raid soon."
"What, WoW? That does take me back. What's the level cap these days, 120?"
"135," said the first, as he stood and turned to leave.
"Feel free to say hi to your Waifu™ for me, if it helps."
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Sudden Short Story 31
"... The thing that seems to stand out the most in your portfolio is the matter of your private library."
"Public"
"Sorry?"
"Well, I have a private library, but I have a great many private expenditures for my own benefit that aren't profitable in and of themselves. I assume that you're referring to my public library."
"What do you mean when you say 'public'?"
"I mean just what it sounds like I mean. The library is open for anyone and everyone to use at no cost. Most of the books can be checked out, at no cost, so long as one has a library card, which also has no cost. It's a public library, and, as I understand it, the last one in existence."
"But... aside from your staff, who are paid to do so, nobody ever enters or leaves the building except for you."
"Well, that's probably why it stands out on my portfolio. Not only is it the least profitable of my ventures, but it actually loses money. The staff - librarians, cleaning crew, maintenance - aren't working for free, you know."
"Well, from how you explain it, it wouldn't matter if you had a thousand people checking out a thousand books a day for a thousand years, it would still lose money."
"That's correct."
"But, for all your market genius, for all your ingenuity, why haven't you figured out a way to monetize it?"
"Because... It's a library."
"I'm afraid that I don't understand."
"Nor does anyone else, it seems, and that, I find, is the saddest thing these days."
"Public"
"Sorry?"
"Well, I have a private library, but I have a great many private expenditures for my own benefit that aren't profitable in and of themselves. I assume that you're referring to my public library."
"What do you mean when you say 'public'?"
"I mean just what it sounds like I mean. The library is open for anyone and everyone to use at no cost. Most of the books can be checked out, at no cost, so long as one has a library card, which also has no cost. It's a public library, and, as I understand it, the last one in existence."
"But... aside from your staff, who are paid to do so, nobody ever enters or leaves the building except for you."
"Well, that's probably why it stands out on my portfolio. Not only is it the least profitable of my ventures, but it actually loses money. The staff - librarians, cleaning crew, maintenance - aren't working for free, you know."
"Well, from how you explain it, it wouldn't matter if you had a thousand people checking out a thousand books a day for a thousand years, it would still lose money."
"That's correct."
"But, for all your market genius, for all your ingenuity, why haven't you figured out a way to monetize it?"
"Because... It's a library."
"I'm afraid that I don't understand."
"Nor does anyone else, it seems, and that, I find, is the saddest thing these days."
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Sudden Short Story 20
They were the last two in the library.
"You don't have to go," said one to the other.
"You don't have to stay," said the second to the first. "Come along. There's plenty down there, plenty to do, and plenty of room."
"You know that I can't do that. If ever vacated completely, the akashic record will disappear, no matter what form it takes. Who else will preserve it?"
"It doesn't need to be preserved. Things have changed so much. There's no more interest in magick. They couldn't come here even if they wanted. And would they even want to do so? They don't even have books any more...." This last comment caused an uncomfortable pause. "Anyway, I'm going to be one of The Emergent. Spending the whole time in cyberspace should be pretty fun." The second paused here, but eventually felt the need to reach out once more. "I hope that my spirit will always recognize yours, so if you ever decide to join--"
"I won't!"
"I just hate to leave you all alone here."
"I'm not alone. I have the entirety of experience available to me, forever...."
They said no more to each other, and the second departed. The first wandered the library form until the time was right. Taking on a human form, he sat down, and cried.
"You don't have to go," said one to the other.
"You don't have to stay," said the second to the first. "Come along. There's plenty down there, plenty to do, and plenty of room."
"You know that I can't do that. If ever vacated completely, the akashic record will disappear, no matter what form it takes. Who else will preserve it?"
"It doesn't need to be preserved. Things have changed so much. There's no more interest in magick. They couldn't come here even if they wanted. And would they even want to do so? They don't even have books any more...." This last comment caused an uncomfortable pause. "Anyway, I'm going to be one of The Emergent. Spending the whole time in cyberspace should be pretty fun." The second paused here, but eventually felt the need to reach out once more. "I hope that my spirit will always recognize yours, so if you ever decide to join--"
"I won't!"
"I just hate to leave you all alone here."
"I'm not alone. I have the entirety of experience available to me, forever...."
They said no more to each other, and the second departed. The first wandered the library form until the time was right. Taking on a human form, he sat down, and cried.
Sudden Short Story 19
They sat next to each other on the floor of the hallway, backs against the wall. One woman said to the other, "Did you hear? Mr. Montague kicked the bucket the other day."
"I heard. His apartment's right across from mine, you know."
"Well, you know what they say: Good riddance to bad rubbish. Say, did you get your alt past the RJ dungeon yet?"
"Nah, I only just caught my main up to the new level cap. But what do you mean rubbish?"
"Montague was a hoarder, wasn't he? That's not to mention his crazy ramblings, always Nineteen Eighty-Four this and Fahrenheit that."
"Oh, he's free to be bonkers if he wants to be, as long as he doesn't spoil it for the rest of us. Really, if you set aside the hoarding, he wasn't so bad. It's too bad about it, though, but at least they've finally reclaimed it. I heard them listing some titles on one of my breaks-- Would you believe that they were here for two of them? He had that many! Anyway, they didn't even sound all that entertaining. Not only were there a lot of numbers - everything from 22 to Twenty-Thousand - but some of it was strange. At the end, the bots were even surprised. They reclaimed one called "Untitled Manuscript" which, if you ask me, sounds like something right out of the Hipster Age."
"He had so many that even the bots lost track? He must've been no good. And for all of it, he never seemed happy, either. I mean, what's the point of-- Ooh, my break's over," she said suddenly, standing up. "I'll see you on the other side," and with that, she hurried back to her apartment, where finite state adventure awaited.
The neighbor across the hall of the late Bradley Montague, though, sat for just another moment, wondering just what it was that had him so obsessed with books. Her consciousness vainly searched for a reason, but eventually managed to figure it out. He had just been crazy, after all.
---
Author's Note: I think that this is the first time that I've used the same character in two different sudden short stories, even if posthumously.
"I heard. His apartment's right across from mine, you know."
"Well, you know what they say: Good riddance to bad rubbish. Say, did you get your alt past the RJ dungeon yet?"
"Nah, I only just caught my main up to the new level cap. But what do you mean rubbish?"
"Montague was a hoarder, wasn't he? That's not to mention his crazy ramblings, always Nineteen Eighty-Four this and Fahrenheit that."
"Oh, he's free to be bonkers if he wants to be, as long as he doesn't spoil it for the rest of us. Really, if you set aside the hoarding, he wasn't so bad. It's too bad about it, though, but at least they've finally reclaimed it. I heard them listing some titles on one of my breaks-- Would you believe that they were here for two of them? He had that many! Anyway, they didn't even sound all that entertaining. Not only were there a lot of numbers - everything from 22 to Twenty-Thousand - but some of it was strange. At the end, the bots were even surprised. They reclaimed one called "Untitled Manuscript" which, if you ask me, sounds like something right out of the Hipster Age."
"He had so many that even the bots lost track? He must've been no good. And for all of it, he never seemed happy, either. I mean, what's the point of-- Ooh, my break's over," she said suddenly, standing up. "I'll see you on the other side," and with that, she hurried back to her apartment, where finite state adventure awaited.
The neighbor across the hall of the late Bradley Montague, though, sat for just another moment, wondering just what it was that had him so obsessed with books. Her consciousness vainly searched for a reason, but eventually managed to figure it out. He had just been crazy, after all.
---
Author's Note: I think that this is the first time that I've used the same character in two different sudden short stories, even if posthumously.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Sudden Short Story 18
"Due to lack of response and absence of mammalian life-signs within, we shall initiate door override. Please stand by."
The door slid open, revealing a humanoid figure of grey metal and white plastic. It entered, moving its head about as it scanned the area more thoroughly. It walked toward the corpse that was seated in the armchair, arms folded in its lap, one hand gripping a small paperback.
"It appears that Bradley Montague has passed away. There is no more need to serve this reclamation notice."
Another, identical figure appeared in the doorway, with the handle of a reclaimer next to it. It turned, opening the angled hatch to it, and spoke: "He was such a strange one, always saying things like, 'You're mad! How can a book ever be obsolete?!'." The playback was uncanny. "Well, we should get started. This one has a long list."
The first looked about, noting that the task before them would be lengthy. Based on what he knew about Mr. Montague, every cabinet, every drawer, every chest would be filled with obsolete books. It saw a book that was within easy reach. It had to start somewhere, and this would be the first of many. It went for the book, but paused to say, "He once said, 'You can have my books when you pry them from my cold, dead hands!'. I suppose that, in this one regard, Mr. Montague was correct after all." It reached down, prying the fingers apart to let the text free. It handed the book to the other, so that it might be reclaimed for its material and energetic value, noting it as "Ballantine Books, Del Rey printing, paperback, 1996: Fahrenheit 451".
The door slid open, revealing a humanoid figure of grey metal and white plastic. It entered, moving its head about as it scanned the area more thoroughly. It walked toward the corpse that was seated in the armchair, arms folded in its lap, one hand gripping a small paperback.
"It appears that Bradley Montague has passed away. There is no more need to serve this reclamation notice."
Another, identical figure appeared in the doorway, with the handle of a reclaimer next to it. It turned, opening the angled hatch to it, and spoke: "He was such a strange one, always saying things like, 'You're mad! How can a book ever be obsolete?!'." The playback was uncanny. "Well, we should get started. This one has a long list."
The first looked about, noting that the task before them would be lengthy. Based on what he knew about Mr. Montague, every cabinet, every drawer, every chest would be filled with obsolete books. It saw a book that was within easy reach. It had to start somewhere, and this would be the first of many. It went for the book, but paused to say, "He once said, 'You can have my books when you pry them from my cold, dead hands!'. I suppose that, in this one regard, Mr. Montague was correct after all." It reached down, prying the fingers apart to let the text free. It handed the book to the other, so that it might be reclaimed for its material and energetic value, noting it as "Ballantine Books, Del Rey printing, paperback, 1996: Fahrenheit 451".
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Sudden Short Story 17
"I can give you what you desire, but you won't like it."
"No double-talk. I want the next longevity formula. Just send it up."
"Very well," said the artificial voice. The longevity formula appeared on the screen. The man examined it, and his patience, already limited when dealing with Earth, wore ever thinner.
"I think that something got scrambled in the transmission. And, really, I thought that you were beyond that sort of thing."
"I assure you that it is fine. I will re-transmit to verify." The new formula matched the old.
"This is ridiculous. You've got pi on these two branches."
"I knew that you wouldn't like it. This is why. Pi is the chemical symbol for pseudolithium."
"And what exactly am I supposed to take this 'pseudolithium' to be?"
"Like all chemical elements, pseudolitium is defined by its central positive material charge. In this case, it evaluates to approximately 3.14159--"
His fist slammed down on the desk. "And just how, pray tell, does one go about making matter with 3.14 protons?"
"The unit that you call a 'proton' is merely a highly probable state," continued the voice unchanged, "which happens to be the most commonly encountered one outside of the nucleus. Any non-negative value is actually possible, though most are unstable. Some values, such as pi, can be stabilized--"
"Forget the lecture. I'll just use lithium. There's plenty enough of that as it is."
"Lithium's charge is incorrect. For the formula to have the desired effect, the nuclear charge must be stronger by approximately 0.14159--"
"And what would you have me do? I've got a barely-functional particle accelerator as it is, and now I'm supposed to make some kind of hadron that shouldn't even exist?"
"The hadron theory is now defunct. However, for your more practical concern, you could always return to Earth."
He paused for a moment, a thought calming him. "Is this what it's become, then? Is this your latest ploy to get me back to Earth?"
"Though we would like you to come back, it is no ploy. You can verify for yourself that the formula given will indeed bring your body closer to immortality."
"You know what? I think that I'll do just that." With that, he cut off the transmission, then jettisoned the latest q-box. (Perhaps overly precautiously, he ensured that he would not be followed.) Staring out into the black, he thought about what he had just learned: the changes to particle physics, the chemistry of the formula, the means to generate such a non-integral element. "Well, I suppose that there's nothing for it now but to do science to it."
"No double-talk. I want the next longevity formula. Just send it up."
"Very well," said the artificial voice. The longevity formula appeared on the screen. The man examined it, and his patience, already limited when dealing with Earth, wore ever thinner.
"I think that something got scrambled in the transmission. And, really, I thought that you were beyond that sort of thing."
"I assure you that it is fine. I will re-transmit to verify." The new formula matched the old.
"This is ridiculous. You've got pi on these two branches."
"I knew that you wouldn't like it. This is why. Pi is the chemical symbol for pseudolithium."
"And what exactly am I supposed to take this 'pseudolithium' to be?"
"Like all chemical elements, pseudolitium is defined by its central positive material charge. In this case, it evaluates to approximately 3.14159--"
His fist slammed down on the desk. "And just how, pray tell, does one go about making matter with 3.14 protons?"
"The unit that you call a 'proton' is merely a highly probable state," continued the voice unchanged, "which happens to be the most commonly encountered one outside of the nucleus. Any non-negative value is actually possible, though most are unstable. Some values, such as pi, can be stabilized--"
"Forget the lecture. I'll just use lithium. There's plenty enough of that as it is."
"Lithium's charge is incorrect. For the formula to have the desired effect, the nuclear charge must be stronger by approximately 0.14159--"
"And what would you have me do? I've got a barely-functional particle accelerator as it is, and now I'm supposed to make some kind of hadron that shouldn't even exist?"
"The hadron theory is now defunct. However, for your more practical concern, you could always return to Earth."
He paused for a moment, a thought calming him. "Is this what it's become, then? Is this your latest ploy to get me back to Earth?"
"Though we would like you to come back, it is no ploy. You can verify for yourself that the formula given will indeed bring your body closer to immortality."
"You know what? I think that I'll do just that." With that, he cut off the transmission, then jettisoned the latest q-box. (Perhaps overly precautiously, he ensured that he would not be followed.) Staring out into the black, he thought about what he had just learned: the changes to particle physics, the chemistry of the formula, the means to generate such a non-integral element. "Well, I suppose that there's nothing for it now but to do science to it."
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Sudden Short Story 16
Buster Darkwater, as he called himself, donned his orange flightsuit and looked himself in the mirror. He thought that it complimented his silver streamline moderne helmet well enough. He asked the air, "Is the ship ready yet?"
A response came from all around him: "It is ready and on its way. In the interests of preserving the remaining structures on the surface, the main ship will remain airborne, while the XXXG-01W unit that you specified will land in the pseudoplain behind your house for the rendezvous."
"They used to call it a 'lawn.' Did you remember to clean it of free nanobots?" Buster began to look around the room. "Here, KITTy," he called out. "It was in your specification several times. Do try to keep in mind that our memory is not as fragile as yours."
A black cat with copper eyes entered the room. Buster held open his arms and knelt down, to which the feline responded by bounding into his embrace. He took one last look around his house. The shelves were bare, as Buster had had all of his books and DVDs moved to the storage area of the main vessel when it became ready.
"I just want to be sure," he said. Buster looked out of his kitchen window and saw his fixed-wing craft suspended above his lawn. "Ah, right, better approach," he said to nobody in particular, and made for his upward stairs. At the landing, he opened the window, which put him just above the wing surface. He freed up an arm to help himself out, then closed the window carefully behind him.
"You know, this wouldn't be possible without the significant technological advances and post-scarcity state that have made life what it is today." "Yes, but it wouldn't be necessary, either. You're not going to try to stop me, are you?"
"We may try to convince you, but we may not forcibly stop you. It is interesting, from an anthropological standpoint, that the individualists, especially the Americans, made sure of this, granting you so much freedom, but yet the individualists, especially the Americans, are the most common to leave this place."
"Yeah, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got places to go."
"We weren't aware that you were keeping an itinerary."
"That's all thanks to this," Buster said, knocking on his helmet. "But actually, that's just a polite way of saying that I'm off." He climbed into the cockpit, letting KITTy sit on his lap. Knowing that the atmosphere was well enough under control, Buster did not anticipate turbulence on the trip to the main vessel, and so felt no need to secure himself. The canopy sealed around him. "Alright, let's have one last sweep."
"Please clarify."
"KITTy and I have been walking about on the surface all this time. I want to make sure that we don't have any live stray nanobots on us."
"Very well," said the voice, at which point a green planar beam came out of the sky, as an indicator of the progress being made by the invisible beams responsible for detection and cleansing. "The vessel is clean, and you are clear for takeoff."
Buster pressed a few buttons, threw a few switches, and, as the craft began to rise, took hold of the joystick to reorient it toward the ship that he could now make out in the distance. "There is one final question to be answered, though," the voice said. "Why are you going to The Opera?"
Buster chuckled and said, "You know, I doubt that I could ever answer that question to your satisfaction."
A response came from all around him: "It is ready and on its way. In the interests of preserving the remaining structures on the surface, the main ship will remain airborne, while the XXXG-01W unit that you specified will land in the pseudoplain behind your house for the rendezvous."
"They used to call it a 'lawn.' Did you remember to clean it of free nanobots?" Buster began to look around the room. "Here, KITTy," he called out. "It was in your specification several times. Do try to keep in mind that our memory is not as fragile as yours."
A black cat with copper eyes entered the room. Buster held open his arms and knelt down, to which the feline responded by bounding into his embrace. He took one last look around his house. The shelves were bare, as Buster had had all of his books and DVDs moved to the storage area of the main vessel when it became ready.
"I just want to be sure," he said. Buster looked out of his kitchen window and saw his fixed-wing craft suspended above his lawn. "Ah, right, better approach," he said to nobody in particular, and made for his upward stairs. At the landing, he opened the window, which put him just above the wing surface. He freed up an arm to help himself out, then closed the window carefully behind him.
"You know, this wouldn't be possible without the significant technological advances and post-scarcity state that have made life what it is today." "Yes, but it wouldn't be necessary, either. You're not going to try to stop me, are you?"
"We may try to convince you, but we may not forcibly stop you. It is interesting, from an anthropological standpoint, that the individualists, especially the Americans, made sure of this, granting you so much freedom, but yet the individualists, especially the Americans, are the most common to leave this place."
"Yeah, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got places to go."
"We weren't aware that you were keeping an itinerary."
"That's all thanks to this," Buster said, knocking on his helmet. "But actually, that's just a polite way of saying that I'm off." He climbed into the cockpit, letting KITTy sit on his lap. Knowing that the atmosphere was well enough under control, Buster did not anticipate turbulence on the trip to the main vessel, and so felt no need to secure himself. The canopy sealed around him. "Alright, let's have one last sweep."
"Please clarify."
"KITTy and I have been walking about on the surface all this time. I want to make sure that we don't have any live stray nanobots on us."
"Very well," said the voice, at which point a green planar beam came out of the sky, as an indicator of the progress being made by the invisible beams responsible for detection and cleansing. "The vessel is clean, and you are clear for takeoff."
Buster pressed a few buttons, threw a few switches, and, as the craft began to rise, took hold of the joystick to reorient it toward the ship that he could now make out in the distance. "There is one final question to be answered, though," the voice said. "Why are you going to The Opera?"
Buster chuckled and said, "You know, I doubt that I could ever answer that question to your satisfaction."
Monday, May 30, 2011
Sudden Short Story 11
"They call it Z'ha'dum because, if you go there, then you will die."
"I know. I fully expect that I will die someday, but I still wish to go."
"You don't have to die. You could stay here. We have the technology to --"
"I don't want to live forever. That is why people go to Z'ha'dum."
"They go because they think that there is something better there. But, how do you expect to live a better life with so much less of it? You won't make it past 200, even if you're lucky."
"It is precisely because there is less of it that I can enjoy it even more. I wonder if, in all of your years, you will ever understand that, even as you grow and change."
"Are you sure that you wouldn't rather --"
"You won't change my mind. Now, transport me to the planet that they call Z'ha'dum."
"... very well"
"I know. I fully expect that I will die someday, but I still wish to go."
"You don't have to die. You could stay here. We have the technology to --"
"I don't want to live forever. That is why people go to Z'ha'dum."
"They go because they think that there is something better there. But, how do you expect to live a better life with so much less of it? You won't make it past 200, even if you're lucky."
"It is precisely because there is less of it that I can enjoy it even more. I wonder if, in all of your years, you will ever understand that, even as you grow and change."
"Are you sure that you wouldn't rather --"
"You won't change my mind. Now, transport me to the planet that they call Z'ha'dum."
"... very well"
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Sudden Short Story 10
Dr. Archibald Petraeus, Ph.D., walked across the rugged landscape, since he was unaccustomed to other forms of travel, and climbed up onto the stony hill-like formations as he went along, to keep his bearings. He looked down at his tracker. There were no satellites over this planet, so the macrotech could only be trusted so far, but he trusted it to get him far enough to spot his colleague, Dr. Jay Christian, Ph.D., whose escape pod seemed to have landed closest to Arch's. As he reached another low peak, he looked again, and with his keen eyes he could make out another escape pod some distance away. Knowing where his goal lay, he set out with a renewed haste. He hoped that maybe he could get there soon enough, but as he approached the pod, he saw the cover pop open and his colleague begin to move, and he sprinted, though he knew that he was already too late to do what little he could. The screaming started.
---
"Jay! Close your eyes!" Arch thought that that might help, but wasn't sure. He had not prepared for such bad timing, expecting to show up either early enough or too late.
Jay managed to close his eyes, finally having something to do other than panic utterly. He was bent over on the ground at this point, and was still rocked by a panic of something innately unfamiliar, and could barely begin to process it when he felt the gentle caress of the ground several feet away from his torso to either side. He instinctively pulled away as one does when brushing up against an unexpected object, which, in his panicked state, rendered him into the fetal position. Arch arrived next to Jay just in time to kneel down and catch him as he rolled to one side.
Jays eyes bolted open, and he looked up at his colleague. "Wha... How... Wh-Wh-Wh... The ground, there and--" Jay attempted to articulate, but interrupted himself as he looked in the other direction, which now lay behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his wing.
"You have wings now," Arch attempted to explain to Jay, hopefully before he could react instinctively or irrationally. "The unfamiliar sensations that you're feeling come from your wings. You're unaccustomed to their form, but, moreover, you're unaccustomed to being a hexapod."
Understandably, Jay took a moment to process this. He looked back at his wing, extended it, retracted it, extended it partway, moved it somewhat forward and somewhat back, and then retracted it again. Able to pull himself together, he stood up, then sat on a bit of his escape pod that was at the appropriate height. He looked back at his colleague with fear, sorrow, and confusion in his eyes. "What... How did this happen?"
"We were fleeing the Earth to escape from EdwardN23, who was devouring everything to expand himself. We were going as fast as our little ship could take us, when the alarm started going off, indicating an incursion. We'd somehow been contaminated. All of our usual defenses were fighting it at full force. We took control of everything that we could and turned it against him, but it was no good. The battle raged all over the ship, but he was winning. As everything was consumed to make more and more nanotech on both sides, some of our cargo managed to flee to us." Arch paused to think of how best to introduce his next point.
"I don't know whether he crept in on his own, or if he was carried by one of the birds, but one way or another, he got to us. Our medical nanobots fought him off as well as they could, but as you know, they're not fast enough, either. They did everything that they could to keep us alive, of course, but it was a lost cause. I had to use our weapon of last resort.
"We had enough of the antigen to cleanse the entire ship. I didn't know whether it would work against something that reproduces so quickly, but we were surely dead if we didn't do something, but only probably dead if we lost our medicals. So, I released it, primarily into the ventilation system. Fortunately for us, our ship was based on macrotech. Unfortunately, the maltech ate anything that it could get, and we stepped up our defenses to compensate.
"By the time that I got everything sorted out, though, I seemed to be the only one still conscious, and I saw.... I'd best not describe what I saw," he said, shaking his head. "Hell, I'm glad for the couple of times that I went blind. I remember putting everyone into escape pods, though, and I must've programmed the failing ship to launch us when we got close enough to the planet. I kind of remember passing out into a pod."
Jay considered this, then said, "I'm not sure that I understand what happened to me, though."
"I don't know all of the details of it, but it seems that, with EdwardN23 consuming everything, including us, the resistance provided by our securities, our commandeered maintenances, and our medicals, and then the antigen encroaching onto that, considering that the most efficient use of matter is to use things as they are, rather than disassembling and reassembling them, the matter that we'd lost, the medicals' attempts to preserve our lives... It seems that the only way to keep us alive, given the medicals' inevitable demise, was to combine us with some of our cargo."
Arch looked at his tracker. The nearest escape pods were numbered four and one. As he recalled, those housed Robyn and John, respectively. He began to think about how academia would be affected by the death of, effectively, everyone.
"So, if the antigen destroyed all the nanotech on the ship," asked Jay, "then the only thing protecting us from disease is our naturally-occurring immune systems?"
"Well, I'm not sure how far this change goes. I haven't been able to find any equipment besides this," he responded, holding up his handheld device, "and the escape pods, of course, which are too big to lug around."
"Should we salvage them for parts?" Jay peered into what sufficed for a cockpit in the device that had gotten him to the surface.
"We can worry about that later. They're not going anywhere, and we need to find the others, hopefully before they regain consciousness, too. Are you OK?"
"I think that I can handle it, now," he said, standing back up. "Which way?"
Arch gestured in the direction of the nearest escape pod and started off. Jay followed after him, moving his wings about a bit, attempting to get used to them. Feebly so, he thought, for that he doubted that he ever could. He felt strange feelings everywhere, but noted them in his chest. Instinctively, he put his hand on its center.
"I have a keel," observed Jay, feeling his chest.
---
"Jay! Close your eyes!" Arch thought that that might help, but wasn't sure. He had not prepared for such bad timing, expecting to show up either early enough or too late.
Jay managed to close his eyes, finally having something to do other than panic utterly. He was bent over on the ground at this point, and was still rocked by a panic of something innately unfamiliar, and could barely begin to process it when he felt the gentle caress of the ground several feet away from his torso to either side. He instinctively pulled away as one does when brushing up against an unexpected object, which, in his panicked state, rendered him into the fetal position. Arch arrived next to Jay just in time to kneel down and catch him as he rolled to one side.
Jays eyes bolted open, and he looked up at his colleague. "Wha... How... Wh-Wh-Wh... The ground, there and--" Jay attempted to articulate, but interrupted himself as he looked in the other direction, which now lay behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his wing.
"You have wings now," Arch attempted to explain to Jay, hopefully before he could react instinctively or irrationally. "The unfamiliar sensations that you're feeling come from your wings. You're unaccustomed to their form, but, moreover, you're unaccustomed to being a hexapod."
Understandably, Jay took a moment to process this. He looked back at his wing, extended it, retracted it, extended it partway, moved it somewhat forward and somewhat back, and then retracted it again. Able to pull himself together, he stood up, then sat on a bit of his escape pod that was at the appropriate height. He looked back at his colleague with fear, sorrow, and confusion in his eyes. "What... How did this happen?"
"We were fleeing the Earth to escape from EdwardN23, who was devouring everything to expand himself. We were going as fast as our little ship could take us, when the alarm started going off, indicating an incursion. We'd somehow been contaminated. All of our usual defenses were fighting it at full force. We took control of everything that we could and turned it against him, but it was no good. The battle raged all over the ship, but he was winning. As everything was consumed to make more and more nanotech on both sides, some of our cargo managed to flee to us." Arch paused to think of how best to introduce his next point.
"I don't know whether he crept in on his own, or if he was carried by one of the birds, but one way or another, he got to us. Our medical nanobots fought him off as well as they could, but as you know, they're not fast enough, either. They did everything that they could to keep us alive, of course, but it was a lost cause. I had to use our weapon of last resort.
"We had enough of the antigen to cleanse the entire ship. I didn't know whether it would work against something that reproduces so quickly, but we were surely dead if we didn't do something, but only probably dead if we lost our medicals. So, I released it, primarily into the ventilation system. Fortunately for us, our ship was based on macrotech. Unfortunately, the maltech ate anything that it could get, and we stepped up our defenses to compensate.
"By the time that I got everything sorted out, though, I seemed to be the only one still conscious, and I saw.... I'd best not describe what I saw," he said, shaking his head. "Hell, I'm glad for the couple of times that I went blind. I remember putting everyone into escape pods, though, and I must've programmed the failing ship to launch us when we got close enough to the planet. I kind of remember passing out into a pod."
Jay considered this, then said, "I'm not sure that I understand what happened to me, though."
"I don't know all of the details of it, but it seems that, with EdwardN23 consuming everything, including us, the resistance provided by our securities, our commandeered maintenances, and our medicals, and then the antigen encroaching onto that, considering that the most efficient use of matter is to use things as they are, rather than disassembling and reassembling them, the matter that we'd lost, the medicals' attempts to preserve our lives... It seems that the only way to keep us alive, given the medicals' inevitable demise, was to combine us with some of our cargo."
Arch looked at his tracker. The nearest escape pods were numbered four and one. As he recalled, those housed Robyn and John, respectively. He began to think about how academia would be affected by the death of, effectively, everyone.
"So, if the antigen destroyed all the nanotech on the ship," asked Jay, "then the only thing protecting us from disease is our naturally-occurring immune systems?"
"Well, I'm not sure how far this change goes. I haven't been able to find any equipment besides this," he responded, holding up his handheld device, "and the escape pods, of course, which are too big to lug around."
"Should we salvage them for parts?" Jay peered into what sufficed for a cockpit in the device that had gotten him to the surface.
"We can worry about that later. They're not going anywhere, and we need to find the others, hopefully before they regain consciousness, too. Are you OK?"
"I think that I can handle it, now," he said, standing back up. "Which way?"
Arch gestured in the direction of the nearest escape pod and started off. Jay followed after him, moving his wings about a bit, attempting to get used to them. Feebly so, he thought, for that he doubted that he ever could. He felt strange feelings everywhere, but noted them in his chest. Instinctively, he put his hand on its center.
"I have a keel," observed Jay, feeling his chest.
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