The Future Is Short (23 page)
Cheers erupted across the Nanking’s bridge.
Vice Admiral Voan smiled. She didn’t think much of vengeance as an ideal, as a goal, as a way of life, but she could appreciate its loosening the accounts of those desiring it. The dead of Versas had been avenged—as had the admiral’s expenses.
Lars Carlson is a welder, network administration student, gamer, and avid reader who sometimes manages to find time to write, every now and again (just not as often as he would like).
He currently lives just north of Seattle, Washington, after 27 years as a native Minnesotan.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
53.
Tom Tinney
The Lord saw how great the wickedness of the human race had become on the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time.
The Lord regretted that he had made human beings on the earth, and his heart was deeply troubled.
So the Lord said, “I will wipe from the face of the earth the human race I have created—and with them the animals, the birds and the creatures that move along the ground—for I regret that I have made them.”
But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord.
—Genesis 6:8
***
“Hey, Jidard, how’s it going?” Pelban said, pulling up a stool at the Space Terminal passengers’ recreation bar.
“Not bad, not bad. Just finished the prototype run on the CB-2675 Cloudbreaker system with my partner, Kirdol,” Jidard replied, pointing his second tentacle toward the third member at their end of the bar. “Ran like a champ.”
“Really? So you’re ready to present it to the council and get a production license?” Pelban signalled the bartender for another round. Jidard flicked his gill slits, indicating yes. “You kept that under wraps. Where did you do your beta testing?”
“Well, that is a story,” Jidard said, chortling through the air-holes that ran down his back. “You know that we have to test in the “life-zone,” but the league says you can’t screw with environmental factors on planets in League Territory or uninhabited worlds where life already exists?
Well, … we went outside the League.”
“Wait. You went out into the spiral arm and tested? That must have cost a lot of credits.”
“It did. And it was boring. No intelligent life for 50,000 light spans. Took ten friggin’ spans to find a test planet, but we did. Took 140 spans to spool up and then we balanced the T-wave. We had 120 percent efficiency, so we are golden.”
“That’s great,” Pelban said, regretting not investing in Jidard’s startup when he had the chance. “I guess it’s time for some fun now, eh?”
“Oh … we had fun,” Jidard said, pointing to his partner Kirdol and waving him over closer. “He is a creative type and has a killer sense of humor.” They both broke out in laughter, drawing looks from the rest of the bar.
“Really.
OK, let me in on the joke. What’s so funny?”
Jidard indicated they should huddle closer. “I am not admitting to breaking the Indigenous Interaction Restrictions, okay? Nothing leaves this bar.”
Pelban bobbed his feather crest, but his multifaceted eyes narrowed. “Do I want to hear this?”
“Oh, yes, you do. We were bored out of our minds, during the spool up, so Kirdol drops a spy-bot down the well near a village of the less hairy primates that seem to be over-running the planet. He runs a translation on the indigenous language. We are listening and we realize they are pretty simple and really gullible.” Jidard and Kirdol looked at each other and laughed again.
“Ok. Enough. Get on with it. What did you do?” Pelban asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Well, when we are 120 spans from the end of spool-up, Kirdol
… what a pisser … he sends a bot down with a holo-projector and voice comp. He tells this Indie … what was his name again?”
“Noah,” Kirdol said, speaking for the first time.
“No-ahhh,” Pelban sounded out, and then shook his head.
“Yeah, Noah.
Kirdol tells him that the world is going to end in 60 spans. He tells him to build a giant boat and get two of each animal on it because we are going to destroy the world in a flood.”
“You . .
.what?” Pelban exclaimed. “Did he do it?”
“Yep.
Finished just in time for us to turn on Cloudbreaker and rain on him for 40 planetary spins. The area we encircled with a repulsor field filled up and he floated around until we pulled the plug, 40 rotations later. Man, that boat must have stunk.” They both laughed again.
“So, we got to prove that Cloudbreaker works like a champ and we drop mucus every time we tell the story again. It’s a win-win.”
“You two crack me up. The next round is on me.”
Tom Tinney is a biker nerd and USAF vet with experience in radar systems, aerospace, and instrumentation industries. When not at work, he spends time motorcycling and writing for biker magazines, as well as conservative blogs. He now writes science fiction novels, his favorite genre to read (and watch). Ride safe. Ride often.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
54.
Richard Bunning
“Bugger it, I feel right old today. Why the heck do I always agree to lead the march-past, Molly? Just because I was born on the 1st Jan 2000 doesn’t make me special. What with that and the Water Wars Parade in September, anyone would think I liked bleeding walking. I watched the Remembrance Day march on Sunday. Parades all look the same, except we don’t get the King at ours, just a few old political farts. Can you remember what Tommy Titmarsh asked me, love?”
“No, should I? It is a long time since I really listened to you, Dad—since I was about twelve, Tommy’s age, actually. He’ll learn!”
“Well, anyways, he said, ‘Why don’t you lot have your march on the 1st Jan, rather than in November, so close to Poppy Day? Give folks a break from that stuff on the News.’ ”
“So I
tells him, ‘It is right cold and always bleeding raining, even in November, without we old buggers freezing to death in January. The first few years we did do it in January, but we were all only 50 years old then.’ ”
“He says, ‘Well it ain’t like we get snow no more’, cheeky bugger. Well, none of us are going to perambulate around in January at our age. Anyways, who the hell hasn’t got a hangover on New Year’s Day? It’s amazing, a 100 and some years on, who’d a thought a century ago that there would be so many from the last millennium still about?”
“And a right grumpy lot you are and all.”
“Ah, you just wait, my girl. Just 89, why you’re still in your prime! I may be a fossil, but I’m still driving. Proper cars and all, not these modern things that run on fresh air and bleeding water. I’ve always been a petrol-head. My pride and joy is my DB5, well, you know my replica, and even it’s nigh on seventy year old in its own right. As I’ve always said, it’s the very car they used in the remake of Die
On Yet Another Deadly Day. The proper roar of its engine, it’s bloody magic. I’ll never forget last year, what a malarkey.”
“You are lucky to still be here, Dad.”
“Put the kettle on, love, whilst I chat to myself, as usual.”
“Put it on yourself, you lazy old codger.”
“Pass me my stick then, there on your right, leaning against the table.”
“There you go.”
“Can I get you a bite of that cannabis cake while I’m up?”
“You shouldn’t eat that stuff when you’re planning on driving. You know what the cops think about spaced-out drivers.”
“Just eases up the old joints, love. My knee gives me jip when getting down in the old girl’s bucket seat.”
“Well, you should get yourself a proper vehicle, Dad.”
“Anyway, where was I?”
“About to tell me, yet again, about being James Bond.”
“That’s right. You remember when that young ****** hijacked me? He thought it a right laugh sticking that shooter in my face. Any road, there I am heading into London to get as near to the Cenotaph as my centenarians pass allows, that be Waterloo. Well, more like right back at the Imperial War Museum! Any road, at least it is easy for the Underground to Embankment.
Did you know that they built the Northern Line way back in the 19th Century? Anyway, where was I? As you know, this egit got into my car, keeping the gun on me all the while, and tells me to teach him how to drive, so he can nick it. Bloody cheek, how am I meant to tell him just like that how a bleeding clutch works, let alone all the other stuff? Haha
… huup … I can’t stop laughing. If the young twat had seen any of them old 007 films he’d of known about the ejector seat.”
“Yes, and Dad, you were right lucky to get away with self-defence. You’d better not be doing that again.”
“Don’t worry. I can’t afford to get the seat loaded right. It is nigh on impossible to find people with the right engineering skills nowadays.”
“Never mind, drink your tea. I will come as well and make sure you get on the Tube safely; then I’ll do a bit of shopping. That’s if you promise me the ejector really won’t still work!”
Richard Bunning is an author of speculative fiction. He has also published reworked neoclassical plays, a totally daft gift book, and short stories in a mix of genres. His best-known book to date is Another Space in Time. His website, geared towards the support of independent authors across many genres, is
http://richardbunningbooksandreviews.weebly.com
.
[email protected]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
5
5.
Sam Bellotto Jr.
BaxterSlug44 cast its largest eyespot in the direction of DocSlug123, blinking in amazement, and gurgled, “They had penises way back then?”
“The male forms did,” explained DocSlug123. “A hardened tubular fleshy extension with which the male forms passed genetic material into the female forms. That was how they reproduced. That’s what they called them.”