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2001: A Space Odyssey

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Mystical Experience, Unknown with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 23, 2012 by javedbabar

QARY’s production of The Time Machine was voted a top ten show by Arcadia’s critics. They said it rang true, and the time travel sequences had exceeded even Sophie’s expectations. Danny and the technical team had done an amazing job.

It was incredible to think that just eighteen months ago this had been an abandoned quarry. Now there was a world famous multimedia show here. No visitor to Arcadia’s west coast would miss it.

Danny had wanted to produce 2001: A Space Odyssey rather than The Time Machine, but when outvoted, he had accepted gracefully, and given 100% to the new show. Maybe he was right in a sense, thought Sophie; not that 2001 was better than The Time Machine, but in saying that it would make a good show in its own right. They needed something spectacular to kick off the third season. They could look at it now. She mentioned this to the crew.

“Really! You want to do Two Thousand and One! That’s fantastic!” said Danny. “I can’t wait to get working on the light tunnel sequence. That will be awesome!”

One of the new girls said, “Sorry, I am not familiar with Two Thousand and One. What is it?”

“It is a confusing story,” said Sophie. “There are bits I don’t understand myself. Danny, could you please explain it in a user-friendly way?”

“Sure, the film was a collaboration between the director Stanley Kubrick and writer Arthur C. Clarke. They played around with the idea for years before settling on the final version. It consists of four parts, each driven by a black monolith that appears mysteriously.”

“What do you mean by monolith?” asked the new girl. “A big stone like at Stonehenge?”

“Kind of, but in the film it’s more like a flat panel. The first part is about the dawn of man. A monolith inspires an ape to use a bone as a tool and then as a weapon, which sets him apart from other animals. The second part is about Tycho-Magnetic Anomaly One, TMA-1, a monolith found buried on the moon. The third part is a voyage to Jupiter, following a radio signal sent by TMA-1, in a ship controlled by a powerful computer named HAL, who takes over the ship, kills most of the crew, but is eventually switched off. The fourth part is the best part, where the only surviving astronaut, Bowman, is pulled into a tunnel of coloured light. He sees himself as a dying man, and then as a child in a ball of light, gazing at the world.”

The new girl looked dazed. “You want us to cover all of that in a one hour show?”

It sounds crazy, thought Sophie, but manageable. They’d produced epic myths like Gilgamesh and Beowulf, and cosmic texts like Bhagavad Gita and Tao Te Ching. 2001 was no more difficult than those.

Danny had some ideas. “We can save cash by painting some old doors black; they will make great monoliths. I can rent a special lens to make blinking eye footage, which will save on film rights. The QARY computer can double as HAL; it’s just a matter of programming some audio files.”

The team produced a show true to the film. It had minimal dialogue and explanations. The imagery was ambiguous and open-ended. It was cryptic and enigmatic.

Blink. Flash. Blink. Flash. Blink. Flash. Blink. Flash. The light tunnel sequence was amazing. Blink. Flash. Blink. Flash. The audience was destabilized and then disorientated. Blink. Flash. Blink. Flash. Things got weirder and weirder. Blink. Flash. Blink. Flash. It felt like they were actually moving. Blink. Flash. Blink. Flash. People began to sway and fall. Many were sick and shrieking.

Danny tried in vain to control the QARY computer. Sophie pulled rank and threw the mains switch. Everything went dark, and then a dark shape appeared from the darkness. She hoped this was one of Danny’s special effects.

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The Time Machine

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Mystical Experience, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 22, 2012 by javedbabar

“The Time Machine has an underground theme,” said a member of the production crew, “and we could have some fun with special effects. It would be like Doctor Who in 4D! It gets my vote for next month’s show.”

“What about 2001: A Space Odyssey?” said Danny. “We could really make something of that last bit, with the crazy colours and blinking eye.”

Sophie was proud of the QARY project’s success. Converting the old quarry into a venue for multimedia shows had been her baby. She was looking for a show to complete the second season; the short list comprised The Time Machine, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Fahrenheit 451, and 1984.

The latter two had been discounted. Fahrenheit 451 because its flames would be too disturbing underground, and 1984 because its world of tiny apartments, two-way screens, media brainwash and endless wars, already existed. People may as well stay at home.

Sophie said, “Okay, who wants Time Machine?” Some hands rose. “Two Thousand and One?” A few less. “The Time Machine wins. So as we discussed, there are three main journeys. The first is the table top model disappearing in front of the inventor’s dinner guests. It’s a minor plot point but we could beef it up. The second journey is the one to 802,701 A.D., where he meets the Eloi and Morlocks. That’s the main part of the story. The third journey is the one thirty million years into the future, where he sees a dying earth and menacing red crablike creatures, and black blobs with tentacles.”

Danny said, “Will we have use of the third chamber for the show?”

“Good question. The renovation of the third chamber is almost complete, but we have unresolved health and safety issues, in particular black mould. Hey, maybe we could use that to bring the black blobs to life.” The production crew chuckled.

Danny had been difficult initially, but was now her most helpful crew member. Even though his favourite idea hadn’t been chosen, he was right back to 100% commitment on the idea that had. He said, “We could use the two main chambers to create Eloi and Morlock worlds. That would give them scale and depth. The inventor’s home is only there for framing than story. We could create it in the entrance area, or even by narration alone.”

Sophie thought, yes, that would work. The thrust of the story is the ultimate result of modern industrial relations. Bosses and workers became distinct classes of people with little in common, something Wells was very worried about.

The best way to show this would be to create two different worlds. Sophie directed the crew to focus on this separation in a modern context. She told them to create opulent and restless worlds.

The Eloi world was very bright. There were small communities of happy elfin people in large futuristic buildings. They performed no work, just spent their lives at ease, laughing and playing, whilst consuming a healthy, fruitarian diet.

The Morlock world was dense and dark. The noise of grinding machinery was everywhere as evidence of their constant industry. Stocky, brutish people moved around in a threatening manner, awaiting their chance to catch and eat you.

On opening night Sophie noticed something disturbing. Unlike previous shows, people were not moving between the chambers. Professional people reclined in the Eloi area, while unskilled workers and their families walked around the Morlock world. It seemed the process of social degeneration was underway.

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Deep Cleaning

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 27, 2012 by javedbabar

The annual deep clean was planned for March 21st. It always fell upon or around the Spring Equinox. Dust had been building up all winter, with bugs scuttling, and mice cuddling, in the hidden corners of the Lucerne Valley Hotel. It was time to blast away cobwebs and welcome in the sun.

Thoroughly cleaning a fifty room, hundred year old hotel was a big job, too much for the regular housekeepers. The solution was to close the hotel for the day and bring in an external crew called LDC: Lucerne Deep Clean. They must be cost-effective, thought TJ, otherwise the Lifetime GM, Mr Kazantzakis, would not have employed them. In spring LDC vans were everywhere, but what they did for the rest of the year was anyone’s guess.

TJ saw twenty people in orange jumpsuits milling around in the dark car park, before a stocky, blonde haired woman entered the hotel and said, “Hello, I am Lucinda Smart, project manager for LDC. We are contracted to clean your building today between six a.m. and six p.m. I make it exactly six a.m. now. Shall we begin?”

“Hi, I’m TJ, the night-receptionist. I’m only on for another hour, but I can get you started.” TJ had met her last year too, but she didn’t seem to remember. She probably met many night-receptionists.

“I think we know what we’re doing. Are all fifty rooms open? Good. We will follow the usual procedure: dust, polish, hoover, wash, recycle, trash, check.”

“DPHWRTC – very catchy,” said TJ, and then wished he hadn’t.

She looked at him blankly, and then smiled. “Are there any rooms that require special attention? We can start on those first.”

“Yes there are.” He scanned the booking sheet and marked some room numbers. “These were in use during the scientists’ convention, and seem like they were shaken about. I don’t know how else to describe their state. And this one,” he couldn’t help blushing, “was used for my stag party last week. The less said about that the better.”

His friends had given him the choice of being entertained by male or female strippers, both wearing lipstick and leathers. When he chose the female, they vetoed his decision. They said it was good training for marriage. After that they brought in a donkey, and he chose not to remember the rest. However he did wonder how they got it up there.

Lucinda said, “Well, let’s hope there’s not too much of a mess. Our process is the same as always but the intensity is different. We won’t be cleaning as deeply as before, and in fact, we will soon be changing our name to LSD: Lucerne Supply Duties.”

TJ was surprised. That was a good acronym, but did they really wish to be associated with psychotropic drugs? All he could say was, “Why is that?”

“The Authority has complained that we make things too clean. It conflicts with their Health and Safety policy. Over-sanitization reduces natural resistance to infection. Also, on a practical level, dust just comes back again, so why try too hard? They also make an aesthetic argument; having no stains seems characterless, and no mess gives an institutional feel. So we will only be shallow cleaning today. We will be done in two hours.”

“But you said you would be working from six to six.”

“Oh yes, we will charge you for twelve hours, but only work for two. You will benefit from this more advanced process.”

TJ had never heard such hokey reasoning in his professional life, and he protested. Lucinda Smart pulled a gun out of her pocket, and said, “Look, I’ve cleared all this with your boss, Mr Kazantzakis. We will leave supplies in each room as we clean. It is an additional income stream for both parties. Now please let us get on with the job.”

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Stag Party

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 26, 2012 by javedbabar

TJ didn’t have to wait for complaints from guests. He heard the noise for himself from the lobby. It must be the people who had booked out the second floor. He tried calling their rooms but there was no answer, and the woman who had booked the rooms didn’t answer her cell phone either; she probably couldn’t hear it. TJ had no choice but to go up himself.

The Lucerne Valley Hotel was often rowdy, but only in the bar area. There was a strict noise policy for the rooms, especially after ten p.m. He tried to recall the guests’ appearance, but realized they had checked in before his shift started, and none had been down since. He wondered what were they doing up there. He was about to find out.

Deep house music filled the corridor, causing the mirrors to shake. It stopped suddenly when he knocked on the door. Why did people always do that? As if that made them less guilty or changed anything.

A flash of white light blinded him when the door opened. Before he knew what was happening, he was pulled in, whirled around, and captured in a net. The music began blasting again and he was dragged into the centre of the room.

TJ was glad that he was 20% android. A full human would have been scared and probably fainted or peed himself. He had at worst blown a few transistors, which were easily replaced.

He heard shouts and shrieks, and felt the voices were familiar. Their frequency and amplitude were known to him. He steadied his perception and looked between the holes in the net. The first person he saw was Mr Kazantzakis, the hotel’s Lifetime GM.

TJ was scared. The LGM was fearsome in business, and had killed at least one person for threatening the hotel’s welfare, but what had TJ done? He was a reliable worker, clocking up four years of service, with never any complaints.

Mr Kazantzakis said, “Ha! You didn’t think you could get away with it that easily, did you?” TJ wondered what he meant. It was true that he helped himself to a drink from the USM (Universal Spirits Machine) most nights, but what was the cost of that to the hotel? A few cents per night. Surely it wasn’t that.

Through the net TJ saw a dozen of his best friends, some from Lucerne and others from the city. Then it dawned on him and he began smiling. Mr Kazantzakis said, “Ah! You know now. Your friends tell me you are getting married next month and are not having a stag night. You have refused and ignored their invites. So they have decided to come to you.”

He turned to TJ’s friends and said, “Gentleman, I will leave you now. Lucerne Valley Hotel is pleased to host this important ritual for our staff member. You have permission to do whatever you want. He’s all yours. Goodnight.”

TJ’s friends made him smash plates and cups, saying it signified the end of his adolescent lifestyle and his transition to responsible marital life. They made him wear a French maid’s outfit and dust the room. This was clearing out his old ways. They made him watch a rom com so he could “understand girls,” and sing a Celine Dion song to become “more romantic”. They made him dress as a woman to “enhance empathy,” and call a marriage guidance helpline, so he wouldn’t be shy if he needed to do so again.

There was a knock at the door. Two people entered, a male and a female, both wearing lipstick and leathers.

His friends asked, “Which one do you want to entertain you? And remember we may decide to accept your wish, or to do the opposite.” This would teach him the crucial lesson that sometimes with your wife, whatever you do, you just can’t win.

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High Security

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 25, 2012 by javedbabar

TJ called the Chief Housekeeper and asked, “Is no one coming over today? I mean to get the daily security data? It is already five a.m. Okay, see you in ten minutes. I will be here.”

You’d think they would know by now, but he had to remind them daily. Maybe six months ago you could skip a day, but these days, no way. The Lucerne Valley Hotel had a reputation to maintain. Their business depended on it.

He was only the night-receptionist, but knew that all must play their part. So much had changed in the industry. He recalled when hotel rooms had mechanical locks, the first time around. Every guest received a key and most guests returned them when checking out, however some keys were lost in town, some taken home by mistake, and some deliberately with the notion of committing future crimes.

The Lifetime GM, Mr Kazantzakis, invested in a new system of key cards. They were coded at reception and opened guests’ doors during their stays. The cards became invalid upon checkout, and were erased and reused.

It was a very good system but as with everything these days, hackers worked out a way to override it. They placed the cards into portable readers and stole their codes. TJ was sorry to say that part-androids like himself were more guilty than most; they had a knack for manipulating technology. There was a spate of free stays and break-ins at the hotel. Something had to be done.

They moved to a fingerprint system which again seemed invincible, but the quality of digital cameras these days was such that eating crisps with your beer became a risky act; one greasy fingerprint was enough to undermine security. RFID (Radio Frequency Identification) tags suffered a similar fate. Hackers found a way to pick up tags’ signals with cell phones, which could then act as keys.

Iris scans were a heavy investment, but Mr Kazantzakis felt they were worth it for Executive floors. They worked well for a month before a rush of laptop thefts from female executives’ rooms. Staff discovered micro-cameras installed behind mirrors in female washrooms. They took sharp shots of women applying their eye shadow and mascara.

People’s wallets, laptops, and identities were being stolen, the latter for months, even years. It was hard these days to prove that you were not you. The hotel tried secret codes, secret information, and security tokens, but these also failed.

A housekeeper mentioned that her grandpa, a Luddite and regular gambler, had suggested a system involving interchangeable mechanical locks. There were fifty guest rooms in the hotel requiring locking. If they placed two rusty old locks, each requiring a good five minutes to open, on each door, and swapped a fifth of them around each day, opportunistic criminals would simply get bored of trying and failing. Each entry attempt would require at least ten minutes of work, with only a two percent of two percent chance of success.

Now there was a sheet of daily security data, saying which locks were to be swapped. This, combined with a password from the lobby, puzzling knots securing items, and fake locks that could be set anywhere in the building, ensured the good reputation of the Lucerne Valley Hotel. It held an unassailable four star security rating.

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Happy Hours

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 24, 2012 by javedbabar

Mr Kazantzakis, the Lifetime General Manager of the Lucerne Valley Hotel, called TJ into his office. He said, “I have noticed that the bar takings are down again this month. This is the third month in a row. Do you know why?”

TJ was confused. He was only the night-receptionist, so why was Mr Kazantzakis asking him? And then he thought, does he think I am stealing money? An irregular wave of worry crossed his face, and a sheen of sweat appeared upon his forehead and temples.

Mr Kazantzakis must have seen this, and said, “I have asked the barman already. He is good at mixing drinks, but not so good at mixing thoughts. He has no idea why people are buying fewer drinks. They are some of our highest margin items, and that’s why I called you in. I want your input. Have you noticed anything different recently?”

TJ focussed his thoughts, which caused another wave to cross his face, but this time a steadier one with less splashback. “We have had more men than women coming in, so fewer cocktails sold. But the men have been ordering micro-brews, so we’re increasing sales value.” The wave slowed and disintegrated. “Ah! Some guests have asked if we have a Happy Hour. When I’ve said no, they have gone elsewhere for their evening’s drinking. Come to think of it, there have been quite a few…”

“So you think that holding a Happy Hour would help?”

“Business increased by fifty percent when we tried it before.”

Mr Kazantzakis winced. Yes, it had been a successful promotion, but The Authority had instructed him to end such activities “promoting immoderate consumption” of alcoholic drinks. He had been told to keep prices above the set minimums. No half-price drinks were allowed. Rather than quibble, Mr Kazantzakis had ended the promotion. A man must choose his battles wisely. There must be ways around the ban though.

The LGM liked empowering people. He understood the benefits of creating high-performance, leaderless teams, as long as they did what he wanted, of course. He said, “Okay TJ, please develop a theme and launch a Happy Hour next week.” He saw sweat build upon TJ’s temples. “I am sure you will do a great job.”

TJ didn’t know where to start. He hadn’t been involved in the previous promotion, and it hadn’t continued for long. Half-priced drinks, double-sized drinks, and free food were all banned. What was left?

Happy Hour. Where had the term come from? he wondered. He plugged into the e-library and found it was originally a nautical expression indicating scheduled entertainment. Long periods spent at sea created stress and boredom, which affected sailors’ mental health, and petty frustrations led to fights. To combat these dangers captains arranged weekly bouts of boxing and wrestling, accompanied by drinking and singing. At dusk on Friday nights many ships would be rocking, regardless of sea conditions.

TJ printed posters saying “Avast Ye Landlubbers! Fight, Sing & Drink All Night at HMS Lucy, the Captain’s Hotel”. He wasn’t sure if Mr Kazantzakis would approve of this theme. Maybe it wasn’t an image he wished to promote.

Things went well on the first Friday night. The bar was rowdy, featuring many forms of debauchery, and its captain of chaos seemed to be the LGM. He was stripped to the waist, downing tankards, kissing girls, singing shanties, and trading punches with all comers. When he saw TJ, he began shouting, “You’re fired! You’re fired!”

Was he really saying that TJ was fired?

No he wasn’t.

“You’re tired! You’re tired!” His words were slurred but enthusiastic. “Good job TJ! Take the night off!”

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Semi-Automatic

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 23, 2012 by javedbabar

When Mr Kazantzakis’ business executive guests became crime targets, his booking agents panicked. They were getting bad press and stopped sending guests.

There was no need to panic though. Mr Kazantzakis was a solution-orientated individual. He wasn’t Lifetime General Manager of the Lucerne Valley Hotel without reason. He hired a team of security guards to keep an eye on guests. The guards were vigilant both inside and outside the building, and accompanied business executives around town.

One of the guards, Russell, asked to see the LGM. He said, “This should be a professional job. Being a security guard is a matter of life and death.”

Lucerne had a serious problem. There were many professional jobs available but few unskilled ones. Everybody wanted a professional job. The hours were shorter, the workload was lighter, the pay was better and you didn’t get dirty or wet. However few people were sufficiently well-qualified or well-connected, or filled the right quotas, and thus eligible for such jobs.

Opportunities for pencil pusher were endless, but hammer hitters were a different matter. The Authority’s Job Upgrade Plan had created an imbalance. Most manual jobs had been automated or abolished. There were very few jobs for unprofessional people.

With almost fifty percent unemployment, civic order had crumbled. The number of armed and ordinary robberies, stealth and aggravated burglaries, bag-snatchings, car-jackings, violent muggings and kidnappings all rose exponentially. A lack of work led to poverty, boredom, stress and anger, and there were rumours of an imminent uprising, which people were calling the Arcadian Spring.

Mr Kazantzakis was the right man for a crisis. Though the business may tilt or even sink partially, he always provided the anchor or ballast required. He was a man you could rely on. Investment cycles were calculated in fifty year terms, and he was the man to ensure long-term returns.

Mr Kazantzakis said to Russell, “But it is not a skilled job. That’s what elevates a task, the level of training and experience. Anyone could walk into this hotel, I could give them a uniform, and they’d be a security guard, and….”

“You are wrong, Mr Kazantzakis,” said Russell. The LGM was stunned. Nobody ever interrupted him.

“I am following a timeless warrior tradition. In ancient Greece there was Achilles, in India there was Arjuna, in China, Lu Tung-Pin, and in Scandinavia, Beowulf. In the Middle Ages there were archers, bowmen and palace guards, all elite soldiers guarding the king. During the American Revolution, marksmen picked off British officers, helping to win battles. In Napoleonic wars, infantry soldiers learnt how to use the Baker rifle, which was slower to load but very accurate. In modern warfare, specialists take Annual Personal Weapons Tests, and must score above 85% of maximum score. They scout and delay the enemy in close combat. They put their lives on the line. Do you not think we deserve to be called professionals?

“What will you do if I don’t promote you? Will you leave?”

Russell pulled out a semi-automatic pistol and laid it on the table. “I will kill you.”

Mr Kazantzakis liked his style. This was a man he could count on in a crisis. He said, “I am not sure if I can change the job spec to professional, but let’s say semi-professional.”

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Lifetime GM

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 22, 2012 by javedbabar

Because he worked the nightshift, TJ hadn’t seen much of Mr Kazantzakis, who was either in his office or remained in his room. Mr Kazantzakis had run the Lucerne Valley Hotel for twenty years and was scheduled to continue for twenty more. The hospitality industry realized the value of loyalty and required senior employees to commit for life.

Mr Kazantzakis’ title was Lifetime General Manager, but it would be more appropriate to say Working Lifetime General Manager. His contract expired when he hit sixty-five. TJ had once asked him what happened after that.

It was the only time that Mr Kazantzakis had avoided a question. He had turned away from TJ and wiped something from his eye, his snow white hair shook a little, and when he turned back his moustache was wet. TJ never again asked him about his future.

Mr Kazantzakis was a hospitality services professional. He was responsible for all areas of the business – revenue and costs, marketing and sales, effective planning, delegating, coordinating, staffing, organizing, decision making, and other day-to-day operations. He had ultimate authority over the hotel and reported directly to its owner. Mr Kazantzakis managed the management team, created and enforced business objectives, oversaw projects and renovations, and handled emergencies and other issues involving guests, employees, the facility, the media, local government and suppliers. His contract also stated that he had “Many Additional Duties”, whose acronym was MAD.

In his time working there, TJ had only disturbed the LGM four times during the night.

The first time was when a group of friends had booked out the second floor. They had a very noisy party and many guests complained to reception. TJ went up three times to ask them to keep the noise down, but to no avail. He had no choice but to wake Mr Karantzakis. The LGM went up to the second floor, saw that people were having good clean fun, and instead of closing down the party, invited all the other guests along. He said, “You are up now anyway, so you may as well enjoy yourselves.”

The second time was when TJ had double-booked the entire hotel. Four buses pulled in simultaneously and two hundred people poured into the reception area, wanting their rooms. TJ panicked and called the LGM, who sized up the guests, chatted to a few, and declared that this would be a Swinging Sixties weekend, with two couples in every room. It was a good way for people to make new friends; how good was entirely up to them. There were no requests for refunds.

The third time was when police were searching for a murder suspect. A witness said that earlier that night, she had seen the victim entering the Lucerne Valley Hotel. The police wanted to question every guest there. The LGM turned the procedure into a Whodunnit? game for the guests, and loaned the police inspector his chequered jacket and pipe “to look like Sherlock Holmes”. He asked TJ to play Watson.

The fourth time was when a guest slipped in a puddle of beer that he had himself spilt moments earlier, and threatened to sue the hotel. The LGM took the man into his office and that guest was never seen again. Later that night the LGM asked TJ to remove a heavy wet bag from his office, and gave him a packet containing $10,000, which he said was for “Inhospitality services.”

The next morning at 6a.m. TJ heard heavy footsteps coming down the main stairwell. He was tempted to say, “Good morning, Deathtime GM.”

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Higgs Boson

Posted in Alternative Energy, Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 21, 2012 by javedbabar

Scientists are a strange bunch, thought TJ. In his four years of working as Lucerne Valley Hotel’s night-receptionist, he had seen all kinds of people, but these nerds were something else. He had no complaints about their manners, it was their thoughts that troubled him. Their brains. Did they ever use them? And if so, did they manage to do so successfully?

TJ was busier than ever. These men, and a few women, were the most incompetent beings he had ever known. Not just socially incompetent, with their awkward gestures and jumbled words, but functionally incompetent; they were unable to execute the simplest tasks.

They repeatedly asked him which rooms they were in; they called to ask how the kettle worked; they didn’t know how to switch on the TV, and if they managed to, were unable to adjust its volume or change channel – but had no trouble finding adult channels and turning them up to full blast. They burnt themselves, or black-fringed iron-shapes right through their suits. They couldn’t figure out which switches operated which lights so often read books in near darkness, or slept in bright light, at least for a while before calling him for help.

TJ spoke to every guest, he guessed, ten times daily, and after two days knew each one by name. The only exceptions were male scientists who had brought along their wives. They seemed to cope better with hotels, giving the impression that they were competent beings in touch with the modern world. They never credited their wives for this, but TJ knew better.

This morning the scientists were leaving. TJ realized that he had been so busy with requests for extra tea bags and toilet rolls, remote control batteries, and more shampoos – not that they needed any for their eggheads – that he didn’t know why they had come here.

While Dr Simoniski studied his bill, TJ asked about his stay.

“My stay? Here? Oh yes! The hotel? It was very good, thank you. It is pretty big for a B&B. Much bigger than I expected.”

TJ said, “Sir, it is not a B&B. It is a fifty-room hotel.”

“Oh yes! You are right. I had a mix up. That was when I was in Lucerne, Switzerland.”

“Were you there on holiday?”

“Holiday! Holiday!” Dr Simonski laughed uncontrollably. “Holiday!” He looked at his wife coming down the stairs. “He said holiday!” Then he turned back to TJ. “There is no time for holidays. I was visiting the Large Hadron Collider, searching for the Higgs boson particle. Have you heard of it? Good, good. It is an elementary particle of the Standard Model of particle physics, and predicted to exist for theoretical reasons. It creates a field with non-zero strength everywhere, even in otherwise empty spaces! Identical particles can also exist in the same place!” His enthusiasm caused his mouth to foam lightly.

TJ asked, “If it is only theoretical, how can you detect it?”

“It is unstable and decays into other particles almost immediately. That’s what the Large Hadron Collider picks up – their atomic signatures.” Sweat appeared on his egg head. He finished checking the bill and said, “That’s why we are here. To celebrate its discovery.”

“Have you found it, really? Where is it?”

“Oh, in a very special place. No wonder it took so long.” He smiled at his wife and handed her the bill to sign.

She had the craziest signature that TJ had ever seen. The ink flowed everywhere – in lines, dots, jets, and scribbles. She smiled weakly and said, “It was in my handbag all along. I didn’t want to steal his thunder. I’ve got a few of them in there.”

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Technical Awareness

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , , on October 12, 2012 by javedbabar

Shama buzzed Sue again. Thank God for the Village Hall receptionist. His job as Training Director would be impossible without her.

Sue had got him through the first month of a role that he was totally unqualified for. It was only The Authority’s urgent need to fill the position that had landed him the job, and also that of Building Control Officer, which he was performing simultaneously.

He noticed that Sue had changed her hair color from blue-black to reddish-brown. How could you dye something lighter? There must be a trick.

Why did women like making dramatic changes to their appearance? Did it change anything beyond their façade? Sue was always cheerful, but today more than usual, so maybe the change had seeped within. A case of software affecting hardware.

She wore rough crystal jewelry. Pale stones caught the light.

“Shall I guess?” said Sue. “It’s about the Jobs of the Future program?”

Shama nodded. “Yes it is. I am looking at Technical Awareness. How would you define technology?”

“Well I guess it’s the stuff we use every day that makes our lives easier. Going right back there’s making fire, the wheel and printing press. Then radio and television. There’s recent things like the jet engine, the internet and nuclear power.”

Her list prompted a thought that these were all ways to adapt to, and control, our environment. Technology represented culture beating nature, and that was the cause of its downsides too – imbalance, pollution and depletion.

Shama looked around his office, and said, “Do you think we could survive without heat and light, power, computers, phones?”

“Of course we could. What I mean is that we could survive without modern methods. My family lived off-grid when I was a child. We had a woodstove for heat, candles for light, and coal for fuel. A few hundred years behind the times maybe, but it worked pretty well. And mankind survived for a hundred thousand years without computers and cell phones. I’m sure we could do it again if needed.”

Sue said that modern technology was helpful but not vital. The tools, knowledge, machinery, modifications, arrangements, procedures, techniques, crafts, systems and methods of organization used to solve problems, improve pre-existing solutions to problems, and perform specific functions, were useful, but humanity could also do without them. We have done. We do. We may again, come the Apocalypse.

“You’re so smart,” said Shama. “You always know what you’re talking about. What would I do without you? How do you do it?”

Sue wondered whether to tell him about her crystal jewelry. Her bracelet, ring and necklace attracted microwave vibrations, which her earrings channeled towards the SSTM chip implanted in her neck. Why not use technology to get ahead?

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