The Future Is Closer Than You Think

by Zaslow Crane

  Occasionally, something metal would turn up missing, but I soon learned enough about wire to buy 100 feet of, say inexpensive co-ax, or cat5 wire from Home Depot and leave the roll in a corner of the living room in the evening.

  I’d come back with a flashlight in the middle of the night and the roll of wire would be covered with tiny, busy robots- like ants cover a popsicle on the sidewalk on a Summer day! By morning, only the plastic spool was left! Once, I put a small can of 3 in 1 Oil from Bill’s workbench on a saucer. By morning there was nothing left on the saucer, not even a tiny film of oil! It’s sort of cute…And they’re very neat…

  Also Bill, my husband is working an awful lot of hours these

  days and I hardly ever see him; the kids are gone all day at school and then they spend hours at their friends’ houses. I hardly ever see them.

  So, these little robots are sort of like… pets. They are a lot of company. I talk to them and I’d swear they understand…

  -And the house has gotten much neater. Oh sure, at the cost of a sweater, a lucky necktie or occasionally, a pair of jeans, but the kids – and Bill have learned to pick their things up and put them away, and somehow the little ‘bots’ don’t “steal” them if they’re folded or hung up…

  Once in a while, they come right through the wall and leave a pile of gypsum crumbs on my carpet! But in moments, there are dozens of little worker ‘bots cleaning up and covering the hole with something the same color as the wall.

  Like I said, they seem pretty smart, they’re great company, and…well…if they can also help me keep the house clean… Why not?

  BY ZASLOW CRANE

  The metal bolt exploded nearby, nearly scaring the drit right outta me. I let out a startled whoop like a little girl. Another half-meter and he’d have punctured my suit and I’d have leaked air and prob blood out onto this worthless Martian soil. If that happened, and I didn’t or couldn’t act fast, b’tween the lack o’ air and the cold I’d be dead in a deci-min.

  I moved out of my work light and into the dark to find some cover, scrambling behind the rocks and unlimbering my Hickey-Abrams 1220, which I keep with me at all times in case o’ such an occurrence as this. I also scan the area I’m workin’ to make right-certain that there is some cover I can hide b’hind every time I got out minin’. Y’don’t get to be as old as I am by being casual about survival.

  Dumb fecker didn’t allow for the weird magnetics in this part of Tharsis Montes. Saved m’life, he did. Now I know that he’s out there, an’ now I know that he’s prob’ got a Martian day, maybe, or day-and-a-half to kill me an’ take over my claim, or to give up and go back empty handed…or to die here.

  So that means that I also just lost a day’s production of pendroit, but that’s a small price t’pay for bein’ allowed to keep on breathing. This is a much better vein o’ the stuff then you’d’a thought just lookin’ at my operation.

  I’d had these problems more’n a few times in the past. Usually it was another miner, down on his luck…real down an’ desperate. If any o’ them were ever t’think to invest in hiring a pro to do the dirty work…well if that ever happened, I wouldn’t be here havin’ these thoughts any longer.

  The Hickey-Abrams was developed for Mars and works just fine, bein’ all hi-tek ceramic, including the sluggos. I sighted up along the direction looking for the tell-tale discharge of vapors that all but the newest suits leak. I see a small but definite trail up behind an ancient scree of rocks.

  Prob basalt, so it’s dense enough I won’t kill him, but maybe scare him enuff t’go home though.

  I unleased a short burst that scattered all around where his head prob’ly was. Showy, an’ excitin’, but nothin’ deadly. Not at all, and not ‘til I get a better bead on him.

  Another bolt came at me but this one “missed by a mile.”

  Amateur.

  I have no fecking idea how long a ‘Mile’ is any more. I might’a used t’know…. It’s just a Martie expression.

  I opened up my comm. I hit b’cast. There was no one else out this far except he & me so I knew who I was talkin’ to.

  “Hey-ya, you, up there in the rock ridge. Stand up and let’s talk. If you stand up, I won’t shoot. I promise. This doesn’t have to be this’a way. One of us doesn’t have to kill th’ other. We can work some’a’thin’ out. Hell, I’d like the comp’ny. This is lonely work!”

  Comp’ny would be fun!

  Yes, it would!

  I waited.

  There was the typical light static on this waveband, like always. Nothin’ else. Nothin’ out this way to create light pollution (like in Mars station!), or wavelength pollution…nothin’.

  I figged that I’d try once more:

  “I got oxy regen in my dome. I got vittles. I even got a sonic shower, so if you figg that you won’t come on in ‘cause you smellin’ rank, you soon’ll be smellin’ like a Dorian daisey. Comeback…”

  I tried the other common freeqs, all with the same result. Nada.

  B’sides, the suit’s receivers are always scanning for any sig,

  an’ way out here, mine would be the onliest.

  He heard me.

  I activated the scannings on my visor again. No more vapor

  leak where I was lookin’.

  “I even got fresh veggies! Heirloomers! Tomatoes, squash,

  peas. Real food. Not MREs. Stand up and c’mon in. Let’s not

  fight.”

  I couldn’t have killed him. Not unless he died of fright. “Heheh.”

  I grinned at the joke.

  You’re funny!

  The onliest amusement I get out here is the stuff we think of. I scanned right an’ left. Not a lot of good cover. I had cleared

  what I was able to clear after the first claim-jumper. I thought back.

  That was three, no four whole sols ago. I been out here that long,

  all by m’self? Don’t seem so long. Lucky that, or I’d be diz bustin’ like

  some o’ those poor other crazies I read about.

  In time, I saw another vapor trail. Prob the same one. He’s

  just tryin’ t’ flank me.

  I guestimated where he was gonna be and let off another

  showy burst, just t’make him think twice about goin’ any further

  that’a way, then another right on top of his position. I hated to

  use the ammo. It was precious, but I needed t’ protect me and I

  can’t think of a better use. I sure ain’t wastin’ it target practicin’.

  The vape disappeared. That means that he’s dead (unlikely, cause I’d a seen a gout of air, blood or some’a’thin’ if I’d hit him), or that he’s gone into recirc mode (which means he’s determined to do me harm).

  Damn.

  Unless he’s got one ‘a the new suits, recirc can only last for a couple deci-hours at best b’fore it overloads. But if he had a new suit, he wouldn’t be broke an’ desperate enough to attack a poor old hard workin’ woman out here by her lonesome.

  I giggled a bit.

  What a canny old bird you’ve become.

  Thank you!

  “Okays, then we do this the hard way…Besties we get it over with then. I’m old an’ don’t have time to waste on a fool.”

  I figged I might’a got him to speak up, callin’ him a fool and all, but he stayed quiet. Damn.

  lll I didn’t get this’a way by bein’ a slacker. The first two of my defense grids are digital (an’ expensive), but really just for show. I like to think they’ll guide the fecker in, ‘cause he can disable or find countermeasures for them easy. Then he’ll get casual and start lookin’ for a better, closer spot to ambush me from.

  It’s the third “fence” I put up. That’s the one. It is a differ’nt old, old style tripline; tripline an’ not a digital alarm. The analog shite doesn’t turn up on scannings, an’ not many folks think to bring IR glasses out here. That’s the onliest way you might see my traps. There’s only one easy way in an
’ out. An’ that’s wellmarked, so I fig that they wouldn’t come in that way ‘cause I got a killzone there (I do, heh).

  So far I been ‘zactly right! I seen old viddies where someone is a’sneakin in the woods, and steps on a twig an’ makes a sound, an’ the heroine shoots the bad guy dead. Well, ‘cept in viddies, I ain’t never seen a tree, much less a forest, and he could be shoutin’ into a bullhorn an’ I prob wouldn’t hear him, so I just wait.

  I feel my pulse start to wind down from the screamin’ peak when the first bolt explodified next to me. I’m feelin’ a bit better now. Resigned. That’s what it is. Just resigned. Might-a been fun to have someone t’talk to, maybe play a game of Chumley, Dareyu or somethin’ with. Too late now though.

  If this goes down the way I hope it will, it’ll be a lot of work, an’ another lost day, but in the end, it’ll be worth it.

  A small dust devil dances seductively in front of me, lit up by a bit of errant light from my work lamp. I’d already shut off my helmet beacon right afters the first bolt busted up my day.

  It danced, almost as if tryin’ to get me t’stand up and dance with it, ‘t’follow it as it goes on its merry way. Some’a’times I do just that, but not t’day.

  Some other time maybes…Sweetie. Dusty devils are the sweethearts of Mars.

  The digital alarms are programmed to transmit data to my visor, but even if they got nothin’ to tell; no alarm to raise, they still can give me some info.

  Like…there…It flickered. Norm-like, I would fig a power fluctuation, but this a’time, my desire to keep on eatin’ an’ breathin’ gets me to think it’s some’a’thing else.

  He’s through layer one. Feelin’ confident….

  Since I have them set up in sequence, not parallel, I also know the gen direction.

  That solids with where I saw the vape last.

  I wait. Bein’ old, and alone, waitin’ is some’a’thing I can do real well. I look at my digital clock in ‘he heads’up display. I smiled.

  Almost time for Phobos to pass over.

  I chance a look up scanning the blackness above me. There you are baby! My little moon! A little jewel in my nighttime sky. We both love Phobos!

  A small bright light passes over me fast, an it’s gone in the time it takes to take n’expel two breaths; almost miss the second line of security flicker and restart.

  He’s close now. I feel in my leg pocket for The Can. It’s always there in case of a day like’n t’day, but I feel for it anyways.

  He’s makin’ good time. Impatient. Runnin’ low on air? Food?

  Runnin’ low on patience.

  I nodded. That’s it.

  I seen it b’fore, I did.

  Bein’ deficient in that out here will get you dead.

  I have the third line, the analog line hooked up to a strobe.

  Hope the tiny powerful light has not been buried in the floating fine.

  Fergot to check it lately. Got lazy…Damn my hide!

  Next time you betta be more careful.

  I know, I know!

  Anyways, the strobe will tell me where he is so I can get to him after he’s down. I need to get to him quick, or all this will have been a waste.

  I wait, ready to shoot if I have to; to seal his suit when he ‘finds’ my last line of defense.

  It’s not so long that I think I see my little super bright strobe going off, just about where I figged he’d be. I move slow and careful, ‘cause one time, one of these feckers brought a strobe with him to fool me.

  That wasn’t nice.

  A few deci-mins later, I see a man down. Damn! He’s a big one! He’s gonna be a lug to bring back insides. His boots are cut half through just above the ankle, an’ he’s unconscious. The blood bubbles out the cuts and froths where the air meets the near vacuum.

  It’s Right mess.

  Yes, it is, it is. Foolish boy.

  His face is already turnin’ colors.

  I couldn’t save this ‘un if I wanted to.

  A’course. A’course. Nature has its way as al’ways.

  His eyes are that desperate lookin’, that’s says that he unnerstands that he’s as good as jerky now.

  Dead almos’ but dead sure as shite.

  I pull out The Can an’ seal the leaks.

  I find that I’m breathin’ hard from the exertion. Old girl, you better get a handle on that. Otherways, you’ll be

  joining this sad lump soon… I know. You don’t got to tell me the obvious like stuff. I’m no dummy.

  Well, you got this far into your air. Somebody’s gotta let you know!

  It’s only then I look at the suit.

  Damn! That might be the oldest suit I ever saw! He must be the third or fourth owner! It’s so old, it isn’t even worth savin’ the suit for parts, it’s so old and ready to fail in a half-dozen ways.

  I just want to spit, but that’d be wastin’ water.

  It’s too bad. They don’t make many suits for women and a man’s suit fits wrong in some places an’ not at all in others. Still, I’m better off’n him. This man be broke an’ desperate.

  I sighed. Life ain’t fair some’a’times…. It didn’t have to end this way.

  Well, this was his party. Feck him an’ his old boltgun.

  lll I was soaked with sweat by the time I got him into the cave. I’d found it years ago. It looked to be an old lava tube that just gave way, leavin’ this shelter. I figged that if I domed up inside then I’d be pertected from the gamma rays an’whatnot. My suit has a shield but you can’t wear the suit 25/7.

  I noticed my panting in the tight helmet enclosure. Even in the feeble grav of Mars, he was a lot of work. Y’get used to what grav you live in, an soon enough, “heavy is

  heavy.”

  Too right you are!

  But he was big! Prob’ly the biggest yet.

  This is excitin’!

  I made right-certain that he was still passed out. He was.

  Good. He good as, if he ain’t dead already.

  It musta been quite a shock to find that third tripline and

  discover it was superstrong microfibre. It’d cut through anything. I’d had nightmares about forgettin’ about them and takin’ a stroll to watch Phobos or Deimos late at night, an’ it was a right hellish thing to string it the first time.

  I scanned him to make right-certain that he wasn’t playin’ possum. Again, never seen a possum, but another expression from Earth that us Marties have embraced.

  lll

  I had a hole dug an’ ready. I always keep a spare laid out. You never know.

  Too right! He’s big! I hope that I dug it big enough! I wrestled with his bulky form an’ it slowly dropped right into place.

  Perfect fit!

  I beamed. I could feel my cheeks brushing the inside panels of my helmet, so big was I grinning.

  Oh yeah. I can unsuit now. Silly old girl. This last bit woulda been a lot easier if you were nekkid.

  lll I buried a big knife in his chest an’ split the suit, and him— from neck to nuts. His eyes went wide one last time an’ then faded real quick. Then, finished slicin’ the suit an’ him open at the shoulders an’ hip, peelin’ back the suit to expose the nutrients in his body. I also removed his helmet. After that I took a deep breath an’ looked at him…layin there.

  I grinned like a fool.

  After a deci-min. I backfilled the hole with special mulch I’d been saving for just such an occasion. I looked around at five other beds ringing the edge of my dome. Each with gro- lights over them. Tomatoes, squash, peas, lettuce, beans.

  Then I looked at seed packets in my wrinkled hand. “Hmmm, which would I like next? Radishes, or carrots?” I giggled like a happy little miss.

  Oh hell, he’s a big’un. Let’s plant both!

  Good idea!

  See The Beatles … LIVE!

  BY ZASLOW CRANE

  adies and gentlemen of the press…This is no

  “L

  adies and gentlemen of
the press…This is no Pepper’s Ghost, no cheesy animatronics, no bad fakery done with mirrors or stand-ins…This will be the Beatles…Live…. Again, together.” Limmer paused, gauging his audience, trying to ramp up excitement. Everything depended upon his generating as much excitement as possible.

  “Through utilization of state of the art, cutting-edge technology you will see the Beatles play together for the first time since 1969. This will BE the Beatles, and you will believe, despite any and all doubts you may have, you will believe!”

  Ted Limmer paused and looked at his partner, Martin Close. It all rides on this moment.

  “This is the dawn of 28.8K projection, from computerized

  multi-platforms, which means that they can move and interact with anyone else on stage, walking in front of, or behind, even talking amongst themselves during numbers. This is like nothing you or anyone has ever seen before! And, yes, we’ve aged George and John, so that there isn’t that jarring visual of either of them being young, playing with the remaining Beatles that we know and love.”

  Who are old beyond imagining? Ted thought deviously. He paused again to allow that info to settle, seed and flower in the minds of the press who he had depended upon to build this story from a curiosity or freak show to a phenomenon.

  “And how do we propose to mount a truly worldwide tour when two of the band’s members are deceased?”

  Clearly this was a question that all assembled wanted answered. The carefully selected press representatives clamored for more…more information, more minutiae, more…access.

  Ted parsed out information like a pro. The press, even those who were far too young to get excited viscerally (which was around 90% of them!), knew a big story when they heard it.

  The Beatles! A.I.! This is big!

  “Technology has progressed to the point where we can imbue A.I. into simulacrums holographically projected. They can interact, speak, sing…even jam!

  My friend and partner, here,” he gestured to a nerdy, bespectacled blonde man off to the side of the raised podium. “Martin Close has replicated all the mannerisms and creative devices each of the two deceased Beatles used to write and play. He has devoted his life to understanding them well enough to bring them back to the world again.”