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Floating City

Posted in Alternative Energy, Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , on July 2, 2012 by javedbabar

Bobby was at the New Ideas Show in Lucerne. It was a great opportunity to do some research for his new business. He’d grown tired of salesmen chattering though and slipped into the audience for Devils’ Den. The first amateur entrepreneur brave enough to face the panel of expert investors was a tall nerdish looking boy.

“Come on up!” said the host, Collette Vapinski, a lady famous for being famous. The boy began walking swiftly but slowed down as he approached the stage. “Come on! Let’s speed it up! We’re in the age of global business. There’s no time to hang about!” The audience laughed. “Woo! There goes an Indian company spicing up your code! Choo! There goes a Chinese company copying your product and shipping it before you do!” Arthur Choo, ex-chief economist of the Bank of Canadia, looked up at her, annoyed. She mouthed, “Sorry.”

The boy had reached the stage. “Please introduce yourself and tell us about your idea.”

“Hello everybody,” said the boy. “My name is Cedric and I’d like to tell you about my idea for a floating city. It is one kilometre wide and houses up to a million citizens in high-density housing. There is large-scale vertical gardening, and a one hundred percent recycling facility that…”

“Wait a minute!” called Amisha Jordan, a promoter of traditional and low-tech technologies. “A floating city? You mean in the sea? No? In the air! How will you do that? It sounds ridiculous!”

The boy was scared by her interruption, but recovered and continued. “It will be built of a mixture of carbon alloys and holograms. All heating will be solar, cooling will be by winds, and it will levitate by means of electromagnetism. It will be useful for inhospitable regions of earth. One kilometre above the earth’s surface there are fewer noxious gases, and cleaner air to breathe…”

“Excuse me,” said Arthur Choo. “Are we speaking of the near future or several centuries yet? What’s your timeline?” It was not a hostile question.

“I’m thinking two hundred years in the future, the same time frame as Sony’s futurists.”

Someone in the audience called out “Two hundred years!” and Cedric hesitated, but Arthur Choo nodded and said, “Go on.”

Cedric was encouraged by this and spoke rapidly. “It will be an entirely independent entity, and can move with the seasons to optimise energy production and resident comfort. It will have fully secure access and good immigration controls. Of course tourism will be a major…”

Social media pioneer June Osh interrupted. “What about using these cities on other planets. Have you thought of that?”

“Yes, it is certainly a possibility for…”

“How much do you need?” she said.

Cedric answered immediately, “I’m looking for five hundred billion dollars for half of the company.”

“I’m in!” said June Osh. There was a gasp from the crowd. “But I don’t have the funds available yet so will only act as an advisor. My website Farmbook is not yet profitable, but it does have one billion members. We could try crowd funding…”

Good luck to you both, thought Bobby. Maybe he didn’t have the right frame of mind to be an entrepreneur.

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Man in the Moon

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , on June 27, 2012 by javedbabar

Guru Baba stood in a field near his house, staring at the moon. There was the Mare Imbrium, and Mare Serenitatis, looking like a pair of eyes; smaller M. Vaparen and M. Insularum, joined into a nose; M. Cognitum and M. Nubium forming a mouth. There he was, formed of dark seas and bright highlands, the Man in the Moon. His monochromatic light play had amused humans since the dawn of their time.

He motioned to his assistant, Sami, who walked right over. “Are you wondering why I brought you here?” he said.

“Sort of,” he said. “But I’ve stopped wondering about most things since I began working for you.”

Guru Baba’s face dropped. He wondered, what did he mean by that?

Sami continued, “The things you say and do defy explanation, so there’s no point wondering. I’ll never understand.”

“You must never stop wondering!” shouted Guru Baba. His voice was harder than Sami had ever heard it before. He realized he had made him very angry. Guru Baba’s next words, however, were calm.

“Come, look at the moon with me.” Guru Baba became silent for a while, wondering if Sami was ready. Was he ready to be taught? He could end up like a Russian shaman he knew, stuck in the moon. It was spiritually rather than physically, but that was just as bad, if not worse. He decided that this one bad egg – whose ego exceeded his skill – should not be his benchmark. There were many better stories. Had he not succeeded himself?

He said to Sami, “What do you see?”

“I see the moon,” he said. “And the Man in the Moon.”

Ah good, thought Guru Baba. He is attuned. “But what is the Man in the Moon?”

“Well, I remember my Grandma’s stories. She loved folktales and myths. She said he was a man punished by God for gathering sticks on the Sabbath. She also said he’d been banished for stealing his neighbour’s hedgerows, and other people’s sheep. There was a Chinese story of a woman who drank a double potion of the Elixir of Life and then lived there with her rabbits. She was the Woman in the Moon. Polynesians said he was the world’s greatest sailor, riding a boat of light in the sky…”

“Very good,” said Guru Baba, thinking what a fine choice of assistant he’d made. “They are all true. But the real Man in the Moon is greater than all of those together. Look at his light and dark parts, expressing the duality of the universe. Look deeper. What do you see? That’s right; he holds the Taijitu – the Yin-Yang symbol. See his dark parts to the top and left, and bright parts to the bottom and right. They swirl around each other. He takes the light of the sun and reflects it wholly, but also holds shade. The Man in the Moon is our supreme teacher. Are you ready to learn his lessons?”

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Bricking It

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village, Sacred Geometry, Unknown with tags , , , , , , , on June 24, 2012 by javedbabar

It was always fun to play in the forest, and now they had paintball guns it was better than ever. Running through the trees and crawling through bush, they were warriors with semi-deadly weapons, each ready to kill or be killed.

Hiding in tree holes and ditches was also fun, getting to know the bugs and spiders, picking their legs off, one by one. There was a tipping point though, and you could only wait for so long. If nobody was available to ambush, then they were probably creeping up to ambush you themselves.

“What about that pile over there?” shouted Sami. “Let’s take a look.” It would make a good fort. However as they approached it, they saw that it wasn’t a wood pile, but a squat brick building, ten feet square, completely enclosed with no obvious entry point. Vegetation around it was disturbed and some trees were smashed. It looked like it hadn’t been there too long. Who had built it, and how?

Sami did a full reconnaissance. There was no door, no windows, no chimney, and no drains. No warning signs either. The building’s only notable features were eight brick buttresses – one at each corner, and one at the centre of each side. He’d seen such features when visiting French cathedrals.

Boys with guns and anonymous buildings, it was a good combination, and there was only one thing to do. The building became their official target.

They made a range on every side. There was a swamp range, shooting uphill through rushes; a mountain range, firing downhill through roots; an east range, aiming through tree trunks; a west range, blasting across flat, rocky ground. They agreed to have a shooting match each day, with teams moving around the ranges.

Four teams of two were established and given different coloured pellets. They counted out one hundred pellets per person. At the end of four days, the differently coloured hits would be counted and the winners declared. If people were caught in cross fire, so much the better!

Sami and Jonah were blue brothers in arms. As they started shooting, they heard noises within. “There must be some machinery inside,” said Sami. Should we stop?”

“No way”” said Jonah, and they continued firing with a pretty good hit rate.

On the third day, when the building had been hit exactly 1,028 times, it suddenly rose up and the buttress roots emerged from the ground. The android spider had been very patient, but every creature has its limits. 1,028 hits, coming from all directions, were a sure sign of attack, and it was programmed to defend itself. It squashed one fleeing humanoid with each armoured leg, and fed them into its underside. It had been resting for too long and was feeling damp and kind of rusty. Their fats would provide good lubrication.

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Extreme Gardening

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village, Organic Farming, Unknown with tags , , , , , , on June 9, 2012 by javedbabar

Shama wanted to turn his life around. He had escaped from his life of crime in the City and found this peaceful village, but had yet to find a job. The opportunities were all in Strattus, half an hour away; the only jobs available in Lucerne were working in the grocery or hardware stores for ten bucks an hour. He would rather go back to robbing kids and selling drugs. There was also seasonal farm work, which paid about the same, but was outdoors and you got fresh produce. He might try that if he was still here in the summer.

He spent most of his time in the forest hunting rabbits and grouse, which he ate himself, and sometimes deer, which provided some income. He also hung around village cafes, getting coffee refills. When he discovered the Botanical Garden, he began to spend time there. He found inexplicable joy in the garden, especially in its Prime Indigenous Areas – the Amazon Rainforest filled with mysterious fertility; the Egyptian Oasis, a cool, calm haven; the Babylonian Hanging Gardens were so vibrant it felt like you were in an ancient cartoon book. It was amazing that there was no entry charge.

Shama saw workers toiling in many parts of the garden. They hardly said a word to each other, and rarely acknowledged visitors. This was a pleasant change from the village, where everybody wanted to know your business. He wanted nobody to know his business. The Botanical Garden suited him well.

One day a voice from behind him said, “I hope that you are enjoying our Garden. We take our duty here very seriously. We make every effort to ensure it thrives.”

“Yes, I like it,” said Shama. Who was this man, he wondered, with his gold-white beard and green suit? He’d heard the creator of this place was called The Gardener. Maybe this was him.

The man said, “I’ve seen you many times during the daytime. Are you working at present?” Shama felt nervous at the man’s intrusion but told him the truth; he was struggling to make a living in Lucerne.

“Have you considered studying gardening? It is the first of all human arts.”

Shama said wasn’t cave-painting the first?

“No, that’s not true. Gardening came before cave-painting, fire-making, and hunting with weapons. Where do you suppose natural colours came from, and kindling, and beasts?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” said Shama. “They all come from the earth of course.”

“Yes that’s true, young man, as far as it goes. But there’s much we can teach you here that will benefit you, and the world. Why don’t you enrol for our next programme? It won’t cost you a penny. All of our students are fully funded by The Authority; it knows the true value of our education.”

Shama indicated the workers digging and planting nearby. “Can’t you offer me a job like those people? My need right now is for money, and I was never good at school anyway.”

The Gardener smiled and stroked his beard. “Young man, education always comes before money. Improve your mind and cash comes running, guaranteed! Those workers are all students too. After a month of successful study we offer them a five-year work/study contract, and as their skills develop, so does their pay. Rest assured, none are earning minimum wage, and they love their work.”

Even though it was getting dark, and an early moon was apparent, their pace did not slacken. “What do you teach them, and what work do they do?”

“They are enrolled on the B.Sc. Extreme Gardening course, affiliated with Luna University. In their first year they study Taxonomy, Plant Pathology, Soil Health, Entomology, Multicultural Landscaping, Sustainable Gardening, Nuisance Wildlife Management, and Integrated Pest Control.”

“All in the first year?” said Shama. “What about the other four years?”

“They are all dedicated to Impact Gardening. They learn the process by which impact events stir the outermost crusts of celestial objects; these erode over time to form the first soils on planets, from which life evolves. As I said, gardening is the first human art.”

Shama said, “I’m still confused about the order of things…”

“When our last home was threatened, humans terraformed earth; the soil we created made life here possible. Now our planet is threatened again, we must begin elsewhere.” He pointed up to the moon. “As a cosmic being, are you ready for your next challenge?”

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Whirlybirds

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Infinite City, Lucerne Village, Unknown with tags , , , , , , on June 8, 2012 by javedbabar

Danny woke up sweating, tossing and turning. He thought he’d left this feeling behind but here it was again.

He’d come to this village for peace and quiet; to be away from the City; away from its noises, stresses, and crimes. Originally he’d had no problems living in the inner city. It was rundown for sure, but it was a happening area, earmarked for redevelopment. It was only a matter of time. But life was not the same after he was mugged there. Every dark corner held fears; car horns made him jump; groups of guys caused him to cross the road; most of all the police helicopters, whirring and shining strong beams at night, made sleep impossible. He’d left the City and come to Lucerne, the beautiful “village beneath the white mountain”.

Danny slipped out of bed and looked through the window. He saw bright waves in the distant sky, mainly blue, shooting and dancing; was it the Northern Lights, this far south? Maybe a seasonal variation had enhanced their visibility. He looked for the source of the mindless whirring; a sign of something going wrong here, a criminal incident turned into a nightmare for every citizen sleeping; saying you are not safe in your homes. Slim dark shapes moved through the sky; yes, it was helicopters, and here on the edge of the bush, their uproar was magnified.

They woke Danny the next night, and the one after that, every night for a week. Sometimes he saw them in the daytime too; just after dawn, or just before dusk. A few minutes either side would have tripped day into night.

The helicopters were landing near the Lucerne Valley Medical Centre, and Danny went there to ask about them. “We deal with occasional emergencies,” said the unfamiliar poker-faced receptionist.

“But why fly them to such a small village?” asked Danny. “Surely facilities in the City are better? And Strattus isn’t so far away.”

“In such cases every minute is precious, Sir. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“Okay, thank you,” said Danny but he left unsatisfied. It didn’t make sense to fly patients to Lucerne’s little medical centre. He passed men in air force uniforms as he left the building. There were many scattered around the building and grounds – specks of blue among medical whites.

The number of helicopters increased, and also the number of air force personnel. He even saw some in the coffee shop near the highway, and overheard one saying, “The enemy was surprised and took a big hit, but we paid a heavy price for our advance. We lost a quarter of Strike Force Twelve…”

Danny edged closer to hear better, but someone said, “Let’s continue this discussion at base.”

He awoke one night sweating more than ever, and ran to the window. The noise was louder. The Northern Lights were brighter, their blue waves now transformed into fierce orange streams. He saw bigger darker shapes, larger helicopters, flying in and out. Danny couldn’t bear the noise any longer and needed to get out of the house. He went for a late night walk heading towards the medical centre.

As he strolled by, a rear door opened and a patient ran out. He ran up to Danny and grabbed him by the shoulders. “This space war is horrible!” he raved with eyes blazing. “They say they are peaceful – why won’t we believe them? They’ve taken out our blue lazers and are hitting back with orange beams. We’ve got no defence against them! They’re coming south! We have to get out of here!”

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Multigame

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

Alberto made it to Lucerne’s Multigame Final. He had trained very hard and was confident of success; sure of putting in a good performance; giving it 101%, and performing well at every event. Whether or not he would win, of course, could not be known. That was in the hands of his rivals.

Multigame was the world’s most popular sport. The Authority had developed it from the Olympian decathlon, though changed some disciplines. They had added shooting and archery, feeling they were a good balance to running and jumping events, developing a different kind of concentration, and giving athletes a rest from strenuous exertion.

One hundred athletes had been selected for the Lucerne District Finals, with similar events taking place in every community in the land. Athletes were divided into groups of ten, competing in every event together till only one person remained.

Multigame was the most popular of the Authority’s Population Reduction programmes, known as PR’s. Since humanity had hit ten million, their stated goal was to reduce this total by ninety percent over ninety years. Multigame was the perfect metaphor for this, with each group of ten being whittled down to one, and to drive the message home further, the remaining ten held a playoff, from which a single winner remained.

Alberto’s family were cheering him from the stands; competitor’s loved ones received special treatment, including free food and drinks all day. His mother and father had hugged and kissed him, and told him how very proud they were. His father said that he didn’t have to participate if he didn’t want to, but Alberto was not changing his mind.

The groups of ten paraded around the arena together. Mt Alba rose before them as inspiration, its lone peak standing strong, for all to see and aspire to.

Alberto’s group began with the one hundred metres swimming. He took a gulp of water at one point, but otherwise did well, and came in third. His shot putt went further than he’d expected, and he was declared the winner. Then the 1500 metres hurdles, during which two of his group were shot by the group doing small-bore rifle shooting. He felt sorry for those fallen, but was pleased about his improved chances.

His favourite sport of archery came next, and he managed to hit two people from the next group doing the 1500 metres. There was a gasp from the crowd – he must have hit a favourite. The high jump was uneventful, except for another of his group being hit in the arm by an arrow. Then the hundred metre sprint, where he came in second from the seven athletes remaining in his group.

Alberto’s discus didn’t go as far as he’d hoped; he only came sixth. In the one kilometre canoe race he came second. Two more of his rivals were shot. It was down to five. During the pole vault, one more was hit by a shot putt – what an amazing throw! The last event was the rifle shooting, in which Alberto hit all his targets.

The judges announced the results of the heats. Alberto came top of his group. The other three athletes performed a lap of honour, and were taken away for humane endings. Only the winner of each group remained.

The last event of the day was inspired by the ancient pentathlon rather than the modern decathlon. It was a form of wrestling/boxing known as Pankration but with a twist. Each person was allowed to keep the weapon from their last event – shot putt, discus, oar, pole, or bow – and those without weapons were given a choice of rope net, sword, nanchuku, or throwing star. Alberto was sitting pretty with his small bore rifle. His concern though was that he had only nine bullets.

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Drunky Taxis

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village, Unknown with tags , , , , , , , , on June 2, 2012 by javedbabar

Danny was drunk for the third time this week at the Lucerne Valley Hotel. The barman was considering giving him a one week ban, but then he thought, where else would he go? The guy was already lost in life; why steal away one of his few remaining anchors?

He’d had one too many though, and was annoying customers; Donna in particular. It was a wonder that she put up with his persistent propositions and bullshit without calling him out. A guy would have decked him along ago. Maybe women were just nicer.

“Time to go home, my friend,” the barman said to Danny. “Better make sure you’ve got your keys. You don’t want to be locked out do you?” When Danny drew his keys out of his pocket to check, the barman swiped them. This worked every time with drunks. The barman pulled out Danny’s car keys, put them in a tin behind the bar, and returned the rest of the bunch to its owner. “Time to go home, my friend.”

Danny didn’t protest; he knew where he stood here. He was a hopeless drunk and his opponent was the king of this joint. The barman said, “I’ve called you a taxi. It will be here in five minutes. You can wait outside.”

Danny got into the taxi and asked how much it would be to Kalash, the subdivision beyond the Golden turnoff, way up the Lucerne Valley Road. The taxi driver said, “That will be fifty bucks, pal.”

Danny laughed heartily. “That’s a good one, buddy. How much really?”

“It’s fifty bucks, my friend. I’m giving you a break already. It’s thirty kilometres at two bucks per click, that’s sixty bucks, and at this time I could charge you half-rate for the return trip. But I won’t do that.”

“Fifty bucks!” said Danny, his head in hands. “Fifty bucks!” He started sobbing, then opened the door, cursed the driver and got out. “F***ing drunky taxis! Fifty bucks! Stuff it up your ass!”

The driver radioed his base to report an abusive passenger and drove away. Danny re-entered the bar. The barman called out, “Hey there, I told you already, time to go home.”

Danny told the barman that the taxi had refused to take him as far as Kalash. The barman shook his head and called one from the other company in town.

Danny tried his negotiation skills again, but the driver stuck to the standard rate of sixty bucks, and also wanted half-rate return, so it would now cost ninety bucks. “Ninety bucks!” wailed Danny. “Ninety bucks! The other driver was charging me fifty!”

The driver said, “Well you should have gone with him then, pal.”

Danny asked the barman to order him another cab, but he refused. Danny called both companies himself, but they declined to transport him.

“How much money to stay here?” he asked the barman. “Upstairs in the rooms?”

“It’s sixty bucks a night, my friend.”

“Sixty bucks!” he cried. “Sixty bucks!” He winked at Donna along the bar, nudged up and smiled at her. “How about sharing a room here, honey? Only thirty bucks each.”

The barman was stunned when she agreed to the proposal and led him off to bed. The barman didn’t know that in the real world, Danny had been a real gentleman. Donna had been a troubled woman, who Danny had helped, expecting nothing in return. She had later almost died from a drugs overdose, and his permanent vegetative state was the result of a stroke.

They were both now living their lives via virtual retinal projections. Some people coped with this change better than others. Donna knew that Danny wasn’t doing so well, and needed a hand now.

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Health Infomatics

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Unknown with tags , , , , , , , on June 1, 2012 by javedbabar

Health Infomatics had come a long way, thought Liz. Even in the time I’ve been working at Lucerne Village Medical Centre, primary patient care has transformed from purely personal to mostly technical. Sure, you get a few moments with a health care professional, but then it’s straight onto machines, and computers do the rest.

Liz was underpaid and underworked, but it was better than it used to be – underpaid and overworked. But hers was a valuable role – the observer, and when needs be, she would step up to actor; she had the skills and experience needed to handle emergency failures.

The doors slid open and a middle aged man walked in. He looked around nervously and walked up to the desk. Liz said, “Good morning, Sir. How may we help you?”

“Em, I haven’t been inside a hospital for years. They sort of scare me. I was feeling unwell and went to see my doctor. He couldn’t really say what it was, so he sent me here.” “Ok, Sir, that all sounds fine. We’ll give you a check up and take it from there.” She clicked open a new file and asked for his ID, which she scanned and returned. “What form does your unwellness take? I mean, what are you feeling?”

“It’s tightness in my throat and chest, and a puffy nose. It could be an allergy, but…”

“Follow me, sir. Let’s not try to second guess. We have the best equipment here. It will tell us everything.”

Liz asked him to remove his jacket and shoes and lie on the bed at the centre of the room. She removed the EMU (Electromagnetic Medical Unit) from its charger and keyed in the codes for White, Forties, Male. EMU units were a great advance – not so much in medical technology, as they performed the same function as flux MRI scanners; more a medical convenience. They weighed three kilos and could be passed over the patient’s body with ease. There was no need now for the whole “entering the tomb” ritual. Their sales had been boosted by a marketing campaign where an animated emu races ahead while an ostrich stays with its head buried in sand. The message was that the EMU tells you everything, even the things you’ve never thought about and don’t want to know.

“Okay, Sir, the EMU says that your sickness is psychosomatic. Do you know what that means? Yes, that’s right; it’s caused by your mind rather than by your body. There is however another indicator showing a ninety-seven percent chance of your developing brain cancer within three years.”

The man looked shocked. “Do I need to start chemotherapy?”

Liz smiled and shook her head. “Sir, when was the last time you were treated in a hospital? More than ten years ago? I thought so. Medical technology is much improved since then. You will need just twenty-four hours of treatment, and your current respiratory complaints and future ontological complaints will be gone. Please come here at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, prepared for an overnight stay.”

The man blinked rapidly and said, “That sounds amazing. How will you treat me?”

“We have several options. I suggest the HEAL machine, which stands for Holistic Emotional Astral Landscapes. The Law of Attraction motivates your healing, creating parallels between your perfect inner state and your perfect outer place. The patient chooses a desirable environment in which to spend the next twenty four hours. Popular choices are deserts, mountains, forests or oceans; you may prefer to be projected into the future, or back to Renaissance, medieval or Biblical times; you may also choose the body of a man, woman, child or foetus; some men find feminine energy more healing and prefer to take that avatar. Many people feel empowered by ancient cultures, and visualize powerful symbols such as the Ankh, Taijitu, Alpha, or OM.” The man was dazzled by all of this.

Liz continued, “You will be immersed in the world of your choice for twenty four hours, while nanobots modify and replace your defective cells. You will wake up feeling better than ever. How does that sound?”

Liz saw the thrill in the patient’s eyes. These HEAL machines almost made you want to be sick.

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Fading

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Global Travel, Lucerne Village, Unknown with tags , , , , , on May 31, 2012 by javedbabar

It was surprising how few people enjoyed the Botanical Garden. Danny was often alone there, or maybe there were other people around but in different sections – the Amazonian Rainforest or Egyptian Oasis areas, or in the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, though these were being regenerated after the recent war. Anyway it was a shame that more people didn’t make better use of Lucerne’s wonderful amenity.

Danny had first met Sophie – with her long arms and legs, black hair and big brown eyes – at the seed fixture, and their date at the garden’s cafe had gone very well; he often saw the green-suited founder of the place, known as The Gardener, strolling around. But apart from some young rascals running between bushes, that was it in terms of regular visitors.

He spotted a new guy strolling along the main path and said hello. The next day he saw him again, and said hello again. The new guy didn’t look too well. Maybe he was recovering from illness and taking a stroll daily for his health. He moved with hesitation and his responses to Danny’s greetings were slow. Danny also imagined that he could be mentally sub-normal, or maybe depressed. He couldn’t enquire about these things of course; it would be considered most rude.

One day the man really looked terrible. His skin was greenish and his greeting was more slurred than usual. Danny said, “Excuse me, are you feeling all right?”

The man stopped struggling to walk and stood beside Danny. He said, “Yes I feel okay, thanks pal.” But this was difficult to believe when he was green and trembling, with froth forming on his lips.

There was a crash in the bushes and some cries for help. It must be those boys mucking about again, thought Danny. They’ll hurt themselves.

The man said to Danny, “Listen pal, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you don’t look so good either. Your skin seems green and you’re shaking.”

“That’s funny,” said Danny. “That’s what I noticed about you. Maybe we should leave this section of the garden; there may be allergens here. Are you allergic to pollens or spores? I suffer from severe hay fever but I’m not sneezing. It could…”

“Look at those caterpillars,” said the man, pointing to yellow and black-striped bugs the size of his thumb. “I’ll bet one touch of those would make you break into a sweat. I picked one up when I was a kid and it…”

Danny wasn’t paying attention to what the man said. His eyes opened wider as the man reduced in intensity, became transparent, and faded away. Was it a trick of the light, or of his eyes? Where had he gone? Was this a joke?

Then he noticed that his own hands had disappeared. A moment later he was no longer in the Botanical Garden.

Danny was back in a bed in Lucerne Village Medical Centre. Misalignment of satellites had caused his signal to break up, and neither his, nor other patients’, virtual retinal projections could be sustained. He was just another client of the centre’s Permanent Life Enhancement unit. He would never walk or talk again, but once the satellites were realigned, he could at least continue to enjoy the garden.

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Excuse Me Please

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Unknown with tags , , , , , , on May 29, 2012 by javedbabar

Danny had a lunch date with Sophie at the Botanical Garden’s new cafe. Ever since he’d met her at the seed fixture, he’d been feeling crazy. Her long arms and legs, black hair and big brown eyes, were all he thought about.

He got there early and found a table for two. He put a copy of the local free rag, The Answer, on his seat and went to the counter. The raw soup looked good, so did the organic sandwiches, but he’d wait to eat till she arrived. He got a fair trade coffee and returned to his table. Where was his table? It seemed to have disappeared. Then he spotted The Answer still sitting on his seat, and on the chair opposite was a woman in a blue-flowered dress, filing her nails.

“Excuse me,” said Danny. “This table is taken. I just went to get a coffee.”

She ignored him and continued filing her nails. He repeated, “Excuse me, this table is taken. I’m sitting here.”

“Go right ahead,” she said in a voice like gargling breadcrumbs. “Sit there. I’m sitting here.”

Danny had worked as a teacher, and was not easily riled. He said, “But I’m meeting someone. They’re coming along soon. I need a table for two.”

“Well no one’s here now. This seat was free.” The woman turned away from him as if that was the end of the conversation.

Now he got angry. “Look lady, I’ve got a lunch date. This table is taken already. Can’t you sit somewhere else?” She held her nails to the light to examine them, but said nothing.

He said, “Look, you don’t even have a drink. This isn’t a street shelter.” He felt mean as he said this, but was in no mood for retraction. Besides, she wasn’t homeless; she was wearing a nice blue dress, and applying coral nail polish. She was just being difficult.

They sat in stalemate – he sipping coffee, and she continuing to redden her fingertips, which looked like little bloody skewers. Eventually she said, “So where is this lunch date of yours? I presume it’s a woman. It doesn’t look like she’s coming.” Now Danny said nothing. “Anyway, why should groups be more important than single people? We can sit where we want, you know.”

“Ahh, thought Danny, so that’s it. She saw a guy by himself and was hoping to hook up, and is now annoyed. He was sorry if she was lonely but that wasn’t his fault or business. “Look, we’re not a couple, we’re single people too, but if all goes well, we may become a couple. Why don’t you…”

Just then Sophie arrived. “So sorry I’m late,” she said, and smiled at the interloper. “I see you’ve brought a friend.”

“She’s no friend of mine,” said Danny. “She stole your seat. She won’t go.”

There was an awkward silence, and Sophie said, “Danny, why don’t you get me a coffee, and sorry, what’s your name? Alli? And get Alli one too. Well, don’t keep us ladies waiting. Off you go.”

Danny was dumbstruck. Both women stared at him. He had no choice but to go. What was this Sophie playing at? he wondered.

Sophie believed in the Law of Attraction. This woman is here for a reason, she thought. Let’s find out why.

During the course of the afternoon, Sophie and Danny discovered that Alli was never given seats as a child. Bags and coats appeared on them suddenly as she approached. Now she sought out seats and never gave them up willingly. People were like that; they were weak, distrustful characters. Her family were Luddites who had chosen not to have their children enhanced with microchips, the reason that Alli was unable to connect with anyone around her. Almost everybody was integrated by internal social media; she was always alone.

Danny and Sophie yearned to be different. This was their chance. Imagine telling their friends all about meeting Alli.

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