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Managed Transition

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

TJ was on the graveyard shift at the Lucerne Valley Hotel. He heard steady footsteps down the front stairwell, accompanied by a cane tapping. It was an elderly person, probably Mr Ramzy. He wondered why he didn’t take the elevator. It would have saved his arthritic legs.

The footsteps and tapping continued for longer than expected. As TJ looked up from prolonged curiosity he saw Mr Ramzy at the bottom of the stairs, adjusting his tie knot and sweating slightly, which gave his amber complexion an unearthly sheen. Was he feeling sick? Why was he coming to reception at three a.m.?

“Good morning Mr Ramzy,” said TJ. “What brings you down here at this early hour? I hope everything is all right.”

“Bah! Nothing is all right!” said Mr Ramzy. “At my age you are always thinking about how things were then, and how things are now, and how much better they were in the old days.”

“Which things do you mean, Mr Ramzy? Everything, or just some things?”

“Well, this place for example. I remember the days when the Lucerne Valley Hotel had the best bar for miles, full of fine vodkas and whiskies, and rums and gins; when you’d never leave here without whipping someone’s ass, or having yours whipped, in a darned good fight; there were bowling lanes on that side” – he indicated the new toilets and baby changing facilities – “where I once hit ten strikes together! There were crazy bingo sessions where you won cabins, horses, even women; and a brothel upstairs that they called the United Nations, on account of all the exotic girls there, and let me tell you, not all of them were girls!” He winked with exaggeration. “And of course the bank that we all hated, and cheered when it got robbed, but which lent us money to get through harsh winters, and while we waited for our gold strikes and oil strikes, and when the cows died.”

TJ said, “This place? Really? It sounds so wild!”

“Yes, it was a wild place, but it was in a small town far away from everything, so The Authority left us alone. But during the PC Revolutions,” – there had been six of them in all: PC1 (Personal Computers), PC2 (Political Correctness), PC3 (Personal Corporations), PC4 (Party Components), PC5 (Purchase Costing), PC6 (Pacific Cities) – “they kept making demands to change this and that, and it’s a wonder this place survived at all.

“To be honest, it’s not much of a draw now, just pastel rooms like everywhere else and an average restaurant and themed cocktail bar, but I come for the memories. I credit the owners though, who went through two hundred years of changes in twenty years. It was a managed transition from bush saloon to modern hotel. I just wanted to talk to someone about it. I’m going back to bed now.” He tapped his way up again.

TJ was intrigued by the hotel’s past, so plugged himself into the main system. He accessed archived memory banks and found earlier versions of himself. His twenty percent android self was unchanged of course, but his human self had been a prospector, an outlaw, a banker, a soldier, a fur trader and a barman. He thought about the implications. He had surely at some point served drinks to himself.

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Triple Vaccination

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

The man in the white jumpsuit flashed his badge and said through his mask, “Good morning. We are agents from The Authority’s IT team.”

TJ knew this stood for Immediate Threats. What were they doing here at the Lucerne Valley Lodge? Their sister organizations were ST (Sustained Threats) and UT (Unknown Threats), the three organs collectively referred to as ITSTUT, which he’d always thought sounded stupid.

The agent continued, “There has been a virus scare; we require you to take immediate action. Step One is to seal all exits. Step Two is to inform all persons. Step Three is to undergo vaccinations.”

TJ said, “Is it a physical or a virtual virus?”

“I’m afraid we can’t say for sure, so everybody must have a triple vaccination.”

“Physical and virtual, what’s the third one?”

“It’s a control vaccination,” said the agent.

“What’s the purpose of that?” TJ was thinking ahead. He had a full hotel tonight – a corporate group, local and global tourists, and drunks from last night. He’d have to explain to all persons why they couldn’t leave and must have three treatments, so he may as well get the lowdown from the Man.

“It’s a balancing treatment,” said the agent. “I am unaware of the technicals, but I have been told that it’s important. There is no refusal option.”

“Erm, okay. I’ll do as you say.” TJ made a hotel-wide announcement. He instructed all staff to report to their departments and all guests to return to their rooms. The IT team would work through the building, treating everybody.

“Thank you for your compliance,” said the agent. “Well, let’s start with you. What percentage android are you? Twenty percent? Okay, good, but I thought you would be more, as you have a very good way with people. I’ve made the adjustments. We’ll start with the Physical. Are you right-handed? Please roll up your left sleeve.” The agent rubbed a sterilizing wipe across TJ’s inner arm, just below the elbow, and using a small needle, injected a blue solution.

“Now, the Virtual. Are you plugged in? You’re not? Good, can you please turn around for a moment?” He inserted a cable into the back of TJ’s head. The software update patched into his meatware in a few seconds.

“Finally, the Control. Take this with a glass of water, or a rare whisky if you prefer.” He handed TJ a yellow pill and winked. “I’m sure you have access to the multispirit machine.”

TJ knew the real purpose of the pill. It was to reach the areas that software couldn’t access. It was an unconscious fix. You believed you were better, which was half the battle, or the Authority somehow convinced you you were better, and who knew what else besides?

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Executive Floor

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

TJ hadn’t slept well and needed extra charging, so plugged himself in again this morning. Extra electrons were always welcome.

He expected it to be a busy morning at the Lucerne Valley Hotel. There was a corporate group here for the weekend on a Revisioning Retreat, domestic and global tourists, and folks from last night too drunk to make it home, who were always troublesome when checking out, wanting discounts and whatnot. They pretended not to have consumed anything from the minibar, when in truth they’d cleaned it out. Such behaviour was an unfortunate relic of a past marketing campaign saying that “the party never stops at the Lucerne Valley Hotel”, and offering All You Can Drink weekend stays. The Authority had eventually put a stop to this, along with Wild Wednesdays’ exotic dancers and animal shows.

He received a call from the second floor. “Hello, this is Mr Mason from 214.  I have a complaint to make. I am an executive with Global Power Systems, yet I am not on the Executive Floor. Why is that?”

“I am sorry about that,” said TJ. “The Executive Floor is filled with members of your delegation. All twelve rooms are taken, so I had no option but to put you on the standard floor.”

TJ was fully charged now so unplugged himself. There was a beep on the phone line, some interference between systems.

Mr Mason said, “But why am I the only one not on the Executive Floor? Is it because you think I am less important? Production, Sales, Marketing, Finance, Technical and Legal executive are all on the Executive Floor. Do you not feel that the NTR department deserves similar consideration?”

It was good that he was calling down, rather than coming down in person. TJ’s face would have betrayed him. Faced with a list of thirteen names and only twelve rooms, he had decided that the Non Tangible Resources executive was the appropriate person to demote to the lower floor. Wasn’t it reasonable to assume that a less tangible department would have less apparent status?

Mr Mason continued his lecture. “Do you know that the areas we deal with – personality fit, multi-cultures, marital status, childhood experiences, intellectual and practical education, psychological balance and psychic skills, are the superglue that holds the organization together? We make it possible for staff to work together harmoniously. Without us, Global Power Systems would be a completely dysfunctional organization. We integrate individuals into…”

TJ realized that the guy was really upset. He needed to do something, so said, “Excuse me, Sir. Sorry for interrupting. Putting you on the standard floor was only a temporary measure while we made up our rooms. Our Super Premium suite is now available. Why don’t you stay there and host drinks tonight for all the other departments?”

“You’re good,” said Mr Mason. “Very good. If you ever want a job in NTR please let me know.”

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Without Walls

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

Mr Jewell was a patient man. He didn’t mind waiting while the receptionist completed his telephone conversation, who indicated that he wouldn’t be long.

It sounded pretty serious though. “Look, I’ll say it again. You need to sort out these building envelope and interior wall issues immediately. There’s been nothing but problems over the past few days. And don’t get me started on plumbing! I’m saving that for next week’s moan. I don’t care if your staff is out on other jobs – they should come and finish this one first!” He put down the phone, shaking his head, and looked at Mr Jewell.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “We’ve had major renovations. The whole place was redone and nothing seems to be working right. We’re relaunching the Lucerne Valley Hotel for our one hundredth anniversary, and at this rate we’ll be lucky to see the hundred-and-first.” The receptionist took a breath, adjusted his tie, and said, “Mr Jewell, how may I help you?”

He knows my name, thought Mr Jewell, maybe I should know his. He was about to ask, but noticed a badge clipped to his tie, saying TJ. He said, “TJ, I have a small problem with my room. It has only three walls.”

“Only three walls? How terrible! I’m so sorry, Sir. You may have overheard my conversation – there’s problems with both interior and exterior walls – which is it? Exterior? Dammit! They’re harder to fix! Still, that isn’t your business. I’ll take care of it for you. What about the ceiling – okay? And the floor? I’ll get it done right away. So sorry for keeping you waiting.”

Mr Jewell was impressed by his urgency, but didn’t want the poor guy to pop a transistor, so said, “Look, it’s a pleasant summer’s day. It’s not a problem right now. Hell, even if I had windows I’d have them wide open! As long as you’ve fixed it by tonight I’ll be happy. It may get cold, and noisy, with all the drinkers going home. I would be obliged if you took care of it by, say, nine o’ clock.”

“No need to wait that long, Sir,” said TJ. “It’s only a matter of a few adjustments.” He began pushing buttons and swiping objects on his touch screen, while muttering to himself. “Room fourteen is empty, maybe I could take its wall tonight. Agh! That doesn’t work. I’ll reboot the room. Okay, okay. Agh! Still no wall. Mr Jewell, I’m sorry, I can’t fix your room, so I’ll upgrade you to a Premium suite. Agh! There’s an override. Okay, let’s try Super Premium.” He punched in a code. “There, it’s done. Top floor, Mr Jewell. This lift takes you straight up there. I hope you enjoy your stay with us.”

Mr Jewell went straight up to the “room”. It confused him however. This one had no walls at all; there was a bed, furniture and en-suite, all sitting out in the open! Was this his punishment for complaining?

He called down to reception. TJ answered and said, “Ah, Mr Jewell! How do you like your room? What? No, no, not at all! Please enjoy the fresh air and scenery during the day – you have great views of Mt Alba and Lilly Lake – and when you’re ready to turn in, simply slide the switch from Transparent to Opaque. If you’re in the mood for entertainment, slide the switch below it to Movies or Holograms. I’m afraid the Horror Holograms are disabled at present. We’ve had too many guests screaming.”

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Last Christmas

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , on July 20, 2012 by javedbabar

Dimpy’s classes were less about education, she realized, and more about expression and entertainment. She’d invented the notion of Spatial Studies, a course designed to fill the gaps between student’s thoughts, without really knowing what it was. As a result, her students didn’t treat their studies seriously and never did their homework. Explaining why they hadn’t done their homework had in fact become a source of pride. It was entirely her fault.

“Steven, did you do homework?” she asked a boy who was looking even more vacant than usual.

He looked at her suddenly and said, “How do you know my name?”

It had taken a few weeks to get everyone’s names, but she knew them now. Why was he acting so surprised? “Because you come to my classes, and we’ve spoken many times.”

He looked angry. “No, I don’t. This is the first time I’ve come to your class.”

“Steven, this is the fifth class. We’re half way through the first term, and…”

Tom interrupted, saying, “Miss Kashi, can I…”

“Not now, Tom. Please wait a minute. I’m not finished yet with Steven.” She didn’t want to drop the conversation; she wanted to understand what he meant. “Don’t you remember your classmates’ excuses about not doing their homework – Tom’s fat cousin, Simone’s repo man, and Asma’s death? Surely you do?”

“No Miss Kashi, I don’t recall anything from before this class, just celebrating Christmas with my family. It was sooo nice. Mom cooked goose stuffed with walnuts and oranges, and dad let us have a sip of red wine; he said that’s what French people do. We played silly games like hide and seek and charades, and read out tongue-twisters, and… ”

Dimpy interrupted, “But it’s September now. That was nine months ago.”

“Was it? It seems like it was only a few days ago. It was soo nice, Miss Kashi. Are you sure this isn’t the first class of the course? Maybe you taught me in a different class last year, and you’re getting mixed up. That’s it! Didn’t you take one math class when Mr. Thompson was way?”

“No I didn’t, Steven. I think you’re…” A note appeared on the desk before her. How it had got there, she couldn’t say. Tom caught her eye and raised his eyebrows; he nodded towards the note. She opened and read it.

It said, “Miss Kashi, please leave Steven alone. His parents split up last week. He can’t handle it. I think he’s gone back to his family’s last happy memory, of Christmas last year, and blocked everything else out.”

Dimpy nodded and refolded the note. There was no point in asking Steven if he’d done Spatial Studies homework. He’d done practice.

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After Work Beers

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Conceptual Art, Lucerne Village, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 7, 2012 by javedbabar

The amateur entrepreneur set up what looked like a record player. Younger members of the Devils’ Den audience had only ever seen these at their grandmas’ houses. They seemed cumbersome objects.

“Are you ready to go?” said the event’s host, Collette Vapinski. She had been selected by the New Ideas Show’s producers for her high public profile. She was famous for being famous.

“I’m almost there,” said the presenter. “Just two more minutes.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls!” said Collette. Her comment drew shrieks from the girls in the audience. The presenter continued fiddling for a full five minutes, and then indicated he was set.

Collette said, “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our sixth and final amateur entrepreneur waiting to impress our panel of expert investors. Please introduce yourself and tell us about your idea.”

He was confident for a guy barely in his twenties. He said, “Hello, I’m Matthew and I’d like to tell you about my Virtual Vibration technology.” This caused some girls to snigger, and the speaker stopped and said, “Calm down girls, I’m only just getting started.”

Maybe he wasn’t as innocent as he appeared. He indicated the apparatus and said, “This is my equipment. Impressive isn’t it, girls? It may look like an ordinary phonograph to you but…”

Collette looked at the panel and said, “Is that what it’s called?” Low tech pioneer Amisha Jordan, ex-banker Arthur Choo, and social media activist Juno Osh, all nodded.

Matthew continued, “In one sense it is, but with an important difference. Allow me to illustrate.” People craned their necks to see what he was doing, but his actions were hidden by a raised cover. It seemed that he had set a record spinning and then placed a needle upon it. There was a very rough crackling, and panel members put their hands to their ears. A recorded conversation was relayed; two male voices with Greek or Arabian accents.

The first voice said, “How’s it going over there?”

The second said, “Not bad, pal. I need to do another coat. I’m not sure this one will dry in time though.”

“Ah, just do it tomorrow morning.”

“The painters are coming in tomorrow. It needs to be done tonight.”

“Okay, pal. I’ll have a warm beer waiting for you when you’re done.”

The rough crackling returned and put an end to the conversation.

Arthur said, “Is it immigrants working in Britain?”

Juno said, “Music would have been much better. Something like that will never go viral.”

Amisha said, “Well done for portraying ordinary people doing honest work, not empty celebrities.” Without meaning to, she looked across the room at Collette.

Matthew removed the gramophone cover to reveal a pot spinning, being brushed by a slim blue laser beam. “These are voices recorded in wet clay, ten thousand years ago in Egypt, picked up by a laser needle and processed through a digital translator. The first guy was a potter. His words were encoded on the pot by his paintbrush wobbling as he talked. I must be honest though; the plasterer’s words were recorded separately from scratches in the plaster, and mixed in later. What do you think of my Virtual Vibration technology?”

Nothing recordable was said for a while, and then there was an eruption that would have produced very rough crackling.

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Soul Capture

Posted in Alternative Energy, Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , , on July 6, 2012 by javedbabar

Bobby’s mind was being expanded by the presentations at the Devils’ Den. It was definitely the best event at the New Ideas Show in Lucerne’s glassy community centre, commonly called the Transparent Temple.

He’d sat among the audience hoping to get some inspiration for starting his own business, but instead he was becoming a little scared. Floating cities, underwater container houses, head plug-ins, and programmable matter – the ideas seemed impossible, or at least unbelievable. Was that why it was called Devil’s Den? Had they made pacts with the devil?

A guy he recognized walked towards the stage; he managed the recycling facility on the edge of the village. Surely his idea would be reasonable. He was a down to earth guy.

The host Collette held her nose as he approached. She said, “Didn’t you bathe this week, my friend?”

He smiled to himself, and then at everyone. “Sorry about that. I just came from work at the transfer station. It’s an occupational hazard.”

Panel member and social media activist Juno Osh drew back in distaste. The audience laughed. Low-tech pioneer Amisha Jordan however was pleased, and said, “It’s good to see a real working man in here. Not just a load of pencil heads.”

“Enough flirting, trash junkies,” said Collette. “I know business sometimes gets dirty, but there’s no need for business people to be dirty.”

The audience booed and the transfer station manager dropped his smile. “Only joking,” she said. She couldn’t afford to lose public goodwill for she had no talents; she was only famous for being famous. “Please introduce yourself and tell us about your idea.”

“My name is Toby, and my business is recycling. These days we try to minimize waste. The best thing of course is to not make it in the first place – you can reduce your product packaging by wise buying choices, and even eliminate it by going to bulk stores. But there’s still plenty of trash. That’s the nature of a modern capitalist economy. I noticed a while ago that at our transfer station, we reuse every resource – card, paper, plastic, metal, wood, glass – except one.”

The audience was curious. Someone called out, “What’s that, pal?”

Toby said magisterially, “Ourselves. Our bodies are cremated, buried, thrown into the sea, and in some cultures chopped up and left as a final act of compassion and generosity for wild beasts to devour.”

Collette said, “Urrggh!”

“Valuable minerals are wasted. And more importantly, valuable experiences that are encoded in our cells. I have developed technology that can compare original and final DNA in terms of quality and quantity, and measure the relative effects of nature and nurture.”

“Can you actually do that?” said Juno, suddenly interested.

“Well not fully, only fifty percent of it.”

“Well I could get the other fifty percent from my social networks. I think we can do business.”

He wasn’t the first amateur entrepreneur led astray by Juno Osh. She’d captivated many with dreams of social media glory but her rewards were rarely tangible. Her promises were made but not kept. They were as vaporous as souls.

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Programmable Matter

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Conceptual Art, Lucerne Village, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 5, 2012 by javedbabar

There was chaos at the Devils’ Den event, with the host Collette Vapinski running around, shouting at her assistants. The previous presenter’s slideshow had malfunctioned. Instead of impressing the panel of expert investors with his technical prowess, the flashes of goofy pictures, drugs, pornography and End Time prophecies bemused and disgusted them. The amateur entrepreneur left in shame.

Collette said, “On behalf of the organizers of the New Ideas Show, I would like to apologize to all audience members for this unexpected occurrence. If people are really upset, we can curtail the event. Who would like us to cancel the rest of Devils’ Den?” A few hands went up. “Okay, not too many of you, so we’ll continue. Please give us five minutes to set up again.”

Bobby realized that he’d been thinking too conventionally. The first notion he was developing was that of a “spice cream” van, serving exotic flavoured ice creams. The second was that of an African Sandwich shop, which sounded exciting but he hadn’t yet thought about what his definition of “African sandwiches” should be.

Presenters today had shown their ideas for floating cities, underwater container houses, and head plug-ins to connect men and machines directly. He too should stretch his imagination.

After a while, Collette Vapinski said, “Okay, we’re back in business!” The audience cheered. “Who’s next?”

A tall blonde girl, wearing a loose white dress, walked up to the stage.

“Not her! Not her!” said low-tech pioneer Amisha Jordan. “She’s some kind of fraudster.”

Ex-banker Arthur Choo and social media activist Juno Osh both burst out laughing. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” said Amisha. “You won’t be laughing later.”

Collette said, “Excuse me panel, what’s so funny? Would you please explain to our audience?”

Juno said, “Cindy will explain.” Arthur nodded.

“Grrr!” said Amisha. “I’m tempted to take a break. I don’t want to share the stage with this crook.” Juno and Arthur gave welcoming smiles to the girl in the white dress, while Amisha sat in a grump.

“Hello everybody,” said the girl. “My name is Cindy. I’d like to present my idea for programmable matter. It’s a way of arranging electrons and atoms into different shapes. You can change the information and energy present in objects to transform them into other objects. Einstein said that all items are energy with differing vibrations. It we can change their frequency, we can change their form. It works with products and with people. My initial tests with repurposing, invisibility, and time travel have been very encouraging, leading to…”

Amisha said, “This is ridiculous. She somehow sneaked into my office last night and tried to trick me out of money.” She walked off the stage. “I’ll be back when she’s gone.”

Juno and Arthur however were both entranced, and said nothing.

Collette said to the girl, “So what’s your offer?”

“One-quarter of my company for one million dollars.”

Juno said, “Hey, yesterday you said one-half of your company for one million dollars.”

“Well, I transported myself to all three of your offices, and received two expressions of interest. So I changed the terms. Of course, if you are no longer interested, I could go elsewhere.”

“No, no,” said Arthur. “I’m very interested.”

“Me too,” said Juno. “Let’s talk after.”

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Plug-Ins

Posted in Alternative Energy, Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 4, 2012 by javedbabar

Bobby had joined the Devils’ Den audience to escape the chattering salesmen at the New Ideas Show, but now he was really enjoying it. The ideas so far had been pretty wacky, but the amateur entrepreneurs presenting them had been passionate and unapologetic about their proposals. Maybe that’s what makes a good business person, thought Bobby.

The third person presenting wore a strange wig. At least it appeared to be a wig. It could be a really bad hairdo, or a case of double bluff where a baldy wears a hairpiece so bad that people say, “that could never be a wig!” Anyway, it was brown and spiky, like a seventies rock star.

It was amazing that host Collette Vapinski, who was famous for being famous, didn’t make fun of the wig. This was probably because of its unknown status. You could see that she was tempted, but resisted and instead said, “Please introduce yourself and explain your idea.”

“Hello panel! Hello audience! My name is Desmond. I’m here to talk about plugs. I know what you’re thinking – plugs, what’s there to talk about? How mundane.”

Low-tech pioneer Amisha Jordan rolled her eyes, expecting another electrical gadget. Digital activist Juno Osh leaned forward. Arch-capitalist Arthur Choo kept a straight face.

Desmond continued, “Plugs let you connect any object to any power source. Isn’t it amazing that a tiny power point lets you connect to infinite universal energy?” The audience didn’t think so. “And now we have SCARTs for audio-visual devices, USBs in computers, and Ethernet for networking, a different kind of power, plus all manner of alternative energies – solar, wind, hydroelectric, geothermal, tidal, just to name a few. You know…”

“So what?” said Amisha. “What’s your point?”

He wasn’t daunted, and continued. “Aren’t electric cars amazing? They’re better in every way. They run quietly, with no emissions, and recharge for pennies. They are the greenest transport available.”

“Don’t push your greenwash, pal. We’ve had bicycles since the…”

Juno Osh interrupted her. “I suppose you came here on a bike from the City, did you? All one hundred and sixty kilometres this morning?” Amisha was embarrassed and stopped talking.

These interruptions made Desmond forget his script. He stood there for a while, looking stupid, then removed his wig and turned around. There was a metal socket in the back of his head, into which he plugged a cable leading to a projector.

A slideshow began on screen, showing his ideas for the next stage of Artificial Intelligence – full hardware-software-meatware integration. It was pretty technical. The audience and panel watched open-mouthed. Bobby thought, now that’s a real innovation.

After a few slides, however, something went wrong. The screen flashed goofy pictures, images of depression drugs, interracial pornography, and End Time prophecies. People gasped and laughed. Desmond became upset and unplugged immediately.

“I think it needs a bit more work,” said Amisha, and sat back, smiling.

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Container Houses

Posted in Alternative Energy, Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , on July 3, 2012 by javedbabar

After the nerd had presented his idea for a floating city – floating in air, not water – came a girl with a more sensible idea – container houses. Bobby was enjoying the Devils’ Den event at the New Ideas Show. He was looking for ideas to start his own business in job-poor Lucerne.

“The essential problem is not lack of housing,” said the presenter, who had neglected to mention her name. “It has to do with distribution. Just like with food – where some become obese, whilst others starve – people have too much or too little shelter. For example why does a childless couple have a ten thousand square foot house in Strattus that they use one month a year, while someone in Mumbai has a hundred square foot room housing three generations?”

“Isn’t that their reward, and their choice?” said Arthur Choo, ex-chief economist of the Bank of Canadia. “They are wealth creators, and every dollar they spend is multiplied within the economy.”

“That may be true,” said the presenter. “But I believe they should be encouraged to make better choices. Shipping containers provide an equitable, flexible solution. They are easy to load, unload, stack, transfer and transport. Everyone should get one. Isn’t that a basic right of democracy, fair housing? A house is the basis…”

She was interrupted by Amisha Jordan, promoter of traditional and low-tech solutions. “I like the idea, but it’s been done already. There are offices and hotels made of containers in port cities.”

“Not underwater,” said the presenter. People gasped.

“What? You are hoping to build underwater housing?”

“Yes, in international waters. They belong to everyone so people can live where they like. There’s no need to be oppressed by the outmoded paradigms of nation states. We can…”

Arthur Choo said, “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. International waters have regulations too. You can’t just live where you like; in the same way you can’t just fish where you like. There are guidelines.”

“I will look into the legal framework later. Right now I’m concerned with mastering physical, chemical and biological environments; looking at things like pressure, temperature, humidity and light; water, food, waste and toxins; sea creatures, microorganisms and fungi. Once those are managed, everything is possible.”

“Okay,” said Arthur Choo. “I’m willing to look at this at a conceptual level. Go on.”

“I’ve also located undersea methane vents, and begun work on dolphin communications and plankton farms…”

Uh-oh, thought Bobby. This girl is all out to sea. Why are young entrepreneurs obsessed by the sea? He’d heard ideas for boats made of recycled bottles, floating cities and marine farms. He didn’t realize they were in tune with the soul of the planet, the global unconscious, and being drawn towards the creative source.

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