“You what?” Bruce pulled away from the soothing jasmine puff. “Are you completely delusional? Have you been surrounded by yesmen and media sycophants for so long that you’ve lost all sense of reality? It’s way, way too late to save the planet, man.” Everybody stared at Bruce until Jethro clapped again. Then everyone else clapped, too.
“Bruce brings up a good point,” Jethro said. “The timetable is daunting, and we’re late. Partly because your Crisis of Conscience was months behind schedule, I feel constrained to point out. In any case, how would we go about meeting this audacious goal? ‘Enterprise audacity’ being one of our corporate buzzsaws, of course. And for that, I’m going to turn it over to Zoe. Zoe?”
Jethro went and sat in the front row, and a big screen appeared up front. A skinny woman in a charcoal-gray suit got up and used her Robo-Bop to control a presentation.
“Thanks, Jethro,” the stick-figure woman, Zoe, said. She had perfect Amanda Seyfried hair. “It really comes down to what we call product versatility.” She clicked on a picture of a nice midrange car with a swooshy device bolted to its roof. “Take the Car-Dingo, for example. What does it do?”
Various people raised their hands and offered slogans like “It makes a Prius feel like a muscle car” or “It awesome-izes your ride.”
“Exactly!” Zoe smiled. She clicked the next slide over, and proprietary specs for the Car-Dingo came up. They were so proprietary, Bruce had never seen them. Bruce struggled to make sense of all those extra connections and loops, going right into the engine. She pulled up similar specs for the ThunderNet tower, full of secret logic. Another screen showed all those nonsensical Robo-Bop menus, suddenly unlocking and making sense.
“Wait a minute.” Bruce was the only one standing up besides Zoe. “So you’re saying all these devices were dual-function all this time? And in all the hundreds of hellish product meetings I’ve sat through, you never once mentioned this fact?”
“Bruce,” Jethro said from the front row, “we’ve got a little thing at DiZi called the Culture of Listening. That means no interrupting the presentation until it’s finished or no artisanal cookies for you.”
Bruce sighed and climbed over someone to find a seat and listened to another hour of corporate “buzzsaws.” At one point he could have sworn Zoe said something about “end-user velocitization.” One thing Bruce did understand in the gathering haze: Even though DiZi officially frowned on the cheap knockoffs of its products littering the Third World, the company had gone to great lengths to make sure those illicit copies used the exact same specs as the real items.
Just as Bruce was passing out from boredom, Jethro thanked Zoe and said, “Now let’s give Bruce the floor. Bruce, come on down.” Bruce had to thump his own legs to wake them up, and when he reached the front, he’d forgotten all the things he was dying to say an hour earlier. The top echelons of DiZi management stared, waiting for him to say something.
“Uh.” Bruce’s head hurt. “What do you want me to say?”
Jethro stood up next to Bruce and put an arm around him. “This is where your Crisis of Conscience comes in, Bruce dude. Let’s just say, as a thought embellishment, that we could fix it.” (“Thought embellishment” was one of Jethro’s buzzsaws.)
“Fix … it?”
Jethro handed Bruce a Robo-Bop with a pulsing Yes/No screen. “It’s all on you, buddy. You push Yes, we can make a difference here. There’ll be some disruptions, people might be a mite inconvenienced, but we can ameliorate some of the problems. Push No and things go on as they are. But bear in mind—if you push Yes, you’re the one who has to explain to the people.”
Bruce still didn’t understand what he was saying yes to, but he hardly cared. He jabbed the Yes button with his right thumb. Jethro whooped and led him to the executive elevator, so they could watch the fun from the roof.
“It should be almost instantaneous,” Jethro said over his shoulder as he hustled into the lift. “Thanks to our patented ‘snaggletooth’ technology that makes all our products talk to each other. It’ll travel around the world like a wave. It’s part of our enterprise philosophy of Why-Not-Now.”
The elevator lurched upward, and in moments they had reached the roof. “It’s starting,” Jethro said. He pointed to the nearest ThunderNet tower. The sleek lid was opening up like petals until the top resembled a solar dish. And a strange haze was gathering over the top of it.
“This technology has been around for years, but everybody said it was too expensive to deploy on a widespread basis,” Jethro said with a wink. “In a nutshell, the tops of the towers contain a photocatalyst material, which turns the CO2 and water in the atmosphere into methane and oxygen. The methane gets stored and used as an extra power source. The tower is also spraying an amine solution into the air that captures more CO2 via a proprietary chemical reaction. That’s why the ThunderNets had to be so pricey.”
Just then, Bruce felt a vibration from his own Robo-Bop. He looked down and was startled to see a detailed audit of Bruce’s personal carbon footprint—including everything he’d done to waste energy in the past five years.
“And hey, look at the parking lot,” Jethro said. All the Car-Dingos were reconfiguring themselves, snaking new connections into the car engines. “We’re getting most of those vehicles as close to zero emissions as possible, using amines that capture the cars’ CO2. You can use the waste heat from the engine to regenerate the amines.” But the real gain would come from the cars’ GPSs, which would start nudging people to carpool whenever another Car-Dingo user was going to the same destination, using a “packet-switching” model to optimize everyone’s commute for greenness. Refuse to carpool and your car might start developing engine trouble—and the Car-Dingos, Bruce knew, were almost impossible to remove.
As for the Crados? Jethro explained how they were already hacking into every appliance in people’s homes to make them energy efficient whether people wanted them to be or not.
Zoe was standing at Bruce’s elbow. “It’s too late to stop the trend or even reverse all the effects,” she said over the din of the ThunderNet towers. “But we can slow it drastically, and our most optimistic projections show major improvements in the medium term.”
“So all this time—all this hellish time—you had the means to make a difference, and you just … sat on it?” Bruce said. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“We wanted to wait until we had full product penetration.” Jethro had to raise his voice now; the ThunderNet towers were actually thundering for the first time ever. “And we needed people to be ready. If we had just come out and told the truth about what our products actually did, people would rather die than buy them. Even after Manhattan and Florida. We couldn’t give them away. But if we claimed to be making overpriced, wasteful pieces of crap that destroy the environment? Then everybody would need to own two of them.”
“So my Crisis of Conscience—” Bruce could only finish that sentence by wheeling his arms.
“We figured the day when you no longer gave a shit about your own future would be the day when people might accept this,” Jethro said, patting Bruce on the back like a father even though he was younger.
“Well, thanks for the mind games.” Bruce had to shout now. “I’m going to go explore something I call my culture of drunkenness.”
“You can’t leave, Bruce,” Jethro yelled in his ear. “This is going to be a major disruption, everyone’s gadgets going nuts at once. There will be violence and wholesale destruction of public property. There will be chainsaw rampages. There may even be Twitter snark. We need you to be out in front on this, explaining it to the people.”
Bruce looked out at the dusk, red-and-black clouds churning as millions of ThunderNet towers blasted them with scrubber beams. Even over that racket, the chorus of car horns and shouts as people’s Car-Dingos suddenly had minds of their own started to ring from the highway. Bruce turned and looked into the gleam of his boss’s schoolmaster specs. “Fuck you, man,” he said. F
ollowed a moment later by “I’ll do it.”
“We knew we could count on you.” Jethro turned to the half dozen or so executives cluttering the roof deck behind him. “Big hand for Bruce, everybody.” Bruce waited until they were done clapping, then leaned over the railing and puked his guts out.
Acknowledgment is Made for Permission to Reprint the Following Materials:
“Walking Awake” by N.K. Jemisin. Copyright © 2014 by N.K. Jemisin. First published in Lightspeed, June 2014. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“The Black Box” by Malka Older. Copyright © 2016 by Malka Older. First published in WIRED, January 2017. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“A Song Transmuted” by Sarah Pinsker. Copyright © 2016 by Sarah Pinsker. First published in Cyber World: Tales of Humanity’s Tomorrow (Hex Publishers, 2016). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Water” by Ramez Naam. Copyright © 2013 2013 by Ramez Naam. First published in Networked Matter, edited by The Institute for the Future. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Underworld 101” by Mame Bougouma Diene. Copyright © 2017 by Mame Bougouma Diene. First published electronically online in Omenana #9. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“The Faithful Soldier, Prompted” by Saladin Ahmed. Copyright © 2010 by Saladin Ahmed. First published in Apex Magazine, Issue 18. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Beautiful Curse” by Kristine Ong Muslim. Copyright © 2013 by Kristine Ong Muslim. An early version of “Beautiful Curse” first appeared in the anthology Smoking Mirrors (Connotation Press, 2013). The story was later collected in Age of Blight (Unnamed Press, 2016) and then reprinted in Weird Fiction Review, September 2016. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Real Boys” by Clara Kumagai. Copyright © 2016 by Clara Kumagai. First published in The Stinging Fly (November, 2016). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Born Out of Frost” by Mélanie Fazi. Translated from the French by Lynn E. Palermo. Copyright © by Mélanie Fazi. First published in Anomaly 25, September 2017. Reprinted by permission of the author and translator.
“The Coffin-Maker’s Daughter” by Angela Slatter. Copyright © 2011 by Angela Slatter. First published in A Book of Horrors (Jo Fletcher Books, 2011). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“I Make People Do Bad Things” by Chesya Burke. Copyright © 2011 by Chesya Burke. First published in Let’s Play White (Apex Publications). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Blood Drive” by Jeffrey Ford. Copyright © 2012 by Jeffrey Ford. First published in After: 19 Stories of Apocalypse and Dystopia (Disney/Hyperion). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Six Things We Found During the Autopsy” by Kuzhali Manickavel. Copyright © 2010 by Kuzhali Manickavel. First published in Pratilipi, 2010. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Please Feed Motion” by Irenosen Okojie. Copyright © 2011 by Irenosen Okojie. First published in Jungle Jim 4. This version appears in Speak Gigantular (Jacaranda Books). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Madeleine” by Amal El-Mohtar. Copyright © 2015 by Amal El-Mohtar. First published in Lightspeed, Issue 61. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Notes from Liminal Spaces” by Hiromi Goto. Copyright © by Hiromi Goto. Originally delivered as a keynote speech at the 2015 Academic Conference of Canadian Science Fiction and Fantasy. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Medusa” by Christopher Brown. Copyright © 2011, 2017 by Christopher Brown. First published in Flurb #11. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“A Universal Elegy” by Tang Fei. Copyright © 2011 by Tang Fei. English translation copyright © 2015 by John Chu. First published in English in Clarkesworld, January, 2015. Reprinted by permission of the author and translator.
“Lalibela” by Gabriel Teodros. Copyright © 2015 by Gabriel Teodros. First published in Octavia’s Brood: Science Fiction Stories from Social Justice Movements (AK Press). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“The Copper Scarab” by K. Tempest Bradford. Copyright © 2017 by K. Tempest Bradford. First published in Clockwork Cairo (Twopenny Books). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“The Arrangement of Their Parts” by Shweta Narayan. Copyright © 2013 by Shweta Narayan. First published in We See A Different Frontier: a postcolonial speculative fiction anthology (Futurefire). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“The Applause of Others” by Corinne Duyvis. Copyright © 2013 by Corinne Duyvis. First published in Fish (Dagan Books). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Lacrimosa” by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. Copyright © 2015 by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. First published in Nightmare Magazine, Issue 38. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Those Shadows Laugh” by Geoff Ryman. Copyright © 2016 by Geoff Ryman. First published in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, September-October 2016. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“There Is Nothing to Bind Our Hearts Together” by Sabrina Huang. Copyright © by Sabrina Huang. First published electronically online at Read Paper Republic. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Douen Calling” by Brandon Mc Ivor. Copyright © 2016 by Brandon Mc Ivor. First published electronically online at Akashic Books “Duppy Thursday” series. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Spectral Evidence” by Victor LaValle. Copyright © 2017 by Victor LaValle. First published in Ploughshares, Volume 43, Number 2, Summer 2017. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“A Model Apartment” by Bryan Thao Worra. Copyright © by Bryan Thao Worra. First published in Innsmouth Free Press #4. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Water in the Rice Fields Up to My Knees” by Johary Ravaloson. Copyright © 2016 by Johary Ravaloson. English translation copyright © 2016 by Allison M. Charette. First published in Words without Borders, October 2016 Issue. Reprinted by permission of the author and translator.
“The Spooky Japanese Girl Is There for You” by Juan Martinez. Copyright © 2007 by Juan Martinez. First published electronically online in McSweeney’s. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“The Executioner” by Jennifer Marie Brissett. Copyright © 2009 by Jennifer Marie Brissett. First published in Warrior Wisewoman 2 (Noralina Books). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Girl, I Love You” by Nadia Bulkin. Copyright © 2014 by Nadia Bulkin. First published in Phantasm Japan (Haikasoru). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“The Castaway” by Sergio Gaut vel Hartman. Copyright © 2007 by Sergio Gaut vel Hartman. Translation copyright © 2007 by Carmen Ruggero. First published electronically online Bewildering Stories. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“A Good Home” by Karin Lowachee. Copyright © 2016 by Karin Lowachee. First published in 4. Lightspeed Magazine: People of Colo(u)r Destory Science Fiction!, June 2016. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“How to Piss Off a Failed Super Soldier” by John Chu. Copyright © 2016 by John Chu. First published in The Book Smugglers’ Quarterly Almanac Volume 1. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Super Duper Fly” by Maurice Broaddus. Copyright © by Maurice Broaddus. First printed in Apex Magazine #77. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Rabbits” by Csilla Kleinheincz. Copyright © 2006 by Csilla Kleinheincz. First printed in English in Expanded Horizons, Issue 24. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“A Different Mistake” by Eve Shi. Copyright © 2016 by Eve Shi. First published in Rambutan Literary: journal for Southeast Asian literature and art, Issue One. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Lost Bonds” by Margrét Helgadóttir. Copyright © 2014 by Margrét Helgadóttir. An early version of the story was published in Fox Pockets Volume Three: Guardians (Fox Spirit Books). This version is from The Stars Seem So Far Away (Fox Spirit Books).
“The Bones Shine Through” by Joyce Chng. Copyright © 2011 by Joyce Chng. First published in M-B
RANE SF: The Magazine of Astounding Science Fiction #27. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Ana’s Tag” by William Alexander. Copyright © 2008 by William Alexander. First published in Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet #23. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“No Kissing the Dolls Unless Jimi Hendrix is Playing” by Clifton Gachagua. Copyright © 2014 by Clifton Gachagua. First published in Africa39: New Writing from Africa South of the Sahara (Bloomsbury USA). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“A Pinch of Salt” by Hal Duncan. Copyright © 2015 by Hal Duncan. First published in Farrago’s Wainscot #15, July 2015. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Escape to Hell” by Iheoma Nwachukwu. Copyright © 2012 by Iheoma Nwachukwu. First published in Jungle Jim #12. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“How to Remember to Forget to Remember the Old War” by Rose Lemberg. Copyright @ 2015 by Rose Lemberg. First published in Lightspeed: Queers Destroy Science Fiction! Special Issue. Reprinted by permission of the author.
“Bottled-Up Messages” by Basma Abdel Aziz. Copyright © 2016 by Basma Abdel Aziz. Translation copyright © by Ruth Ahmedzai Kemp. First published in Index on Censorship, Vol. 45, No. 3. Reprinted by permission of the author and translator.
“Acception” by Tessa Kum. Copyright © 2010 by Tessa Kum. First published in Baggage (Eneit Press). Reprinted by permission of the author.
“The Day It All Ended” by Charlie Jane Anders. Copyright © 2014 by Charlie Jane Anders. First published in Hieroglyph: Stories & Visions for a Better Future (William Morrow). Reprinted by permission of the author.
About the Editor
Bill Campbell is the author of Sunshine Patriots, My Booty Novel, Pop Culture: Politics, Puns, “Poohbutt” from a Liberal Stay-at-Home Dad, Koontown Killing Kaper, and the spaceploitation comic, Baaaad Muthaz, with David Brame and Damian Duffy. Along with Edward Austin Hall, he co-edited the groundbreaking anthology, Mothership: Tales from Afrofuturism and Beyond. He also co-edited the Glyph Award-winning comics anthology, APB: Artists against Police Brutality, with Jason Rodriguez and John Jennings, the Locus Award-nominated anthology, Stories for Chip: A Tribute to Samuel R. Delany, with Nisi Shawl, and Future Fiction: New Dimensions in International Science Fiction and Fantasy with Italian publisher, Francesco Verso. Campbell founded Rosarium Publishing in 2013.
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