Pew! Pew! - Sex, Guns, Spaceships... Oh My!

by M. D. Cooper

  The man shook his head. “I don’t know anything about a mining colony on Europa. Are you sure?”

  “I did my research, man. It’s on the up and up.” He failed to mention that by research, he meant he read the one document and started planning his trip. He knew a good deal when he saw it, though, and this was one of those deals of a lifetime.

  “Uh huh, so you just plan on showing up to Europa and that’s it?”

  Taken aback, Ben shrugged. “I have a plan. Besides, what business is it of yours?”

  “Touché’,” The old man said. “Well, I would advise you to make sure you have enough supplies for a return trip just in case. I’ll give you a return voucher as well.”

  “I’m not going to need it.” He sank his hands deep into his pockets, fighting back the cold the air conditioning was making him feel due to being wet from the rain.

  The old man looked up, “It’s our policy to always provide a return voucher. You never know when a situation might warrant it.” He typed in a few more items on his tablet before asking a series of questions. “Name?”

  “Benjamin Dale.”

  “Age?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  “Citizenship?”

  “New American.”

  “Will there be other living occupants traveling with you?”

  “No.”

  “Private or commercial?”

  “Private.”

  “Ship’s name?”

  Ben grinned before answering. “It’s called the Shistain; S, H, I, S, T, A, I, N.”

  The older man cracked a sneering smile at the name as he typed it onto his tablet. “What kind of ship?”

  “It’s an old transport ship.”

  “So, no FTL then?”

  “No.”

  The man’s face scrunched up. “That’s going to be a long trip, son.”

  “Whatever. How much is this going to cost me?” Ben hated spending money almost as much as he hated when people implied his ideas were not good ideas. He especially hated spending the kind of money that was hard to come by. He’d been saving for months, not particularly for this venture, but for any opportunity that would give him a second chance. Joining the Army almost cost him his life, and losing his arm in a training accident and being medically discharged was an embarrassment he couldn’t quite get over. One of the biggest reasons he rarely went home was the disappointed look on his father’s face every time Ben looked at him. He knew what his dad was thinking, that he injured himself on purpose to get out of the Army. It wasn’t true, but that didn’t matter; the thought already poisoned his father’s opinion. There was no going back now. There is no going back ever, Ben thought as the clerk typed away on his tablet before looking up again.

  “One-thousand dollars and thirty-seven cents.” The price was accompanied by the same creepy smile the man had who waved and opened the door.

  They must practice that shit in the mirror. He tried to remember which pocket he kept his card in. “Really, you guys need the extra thirty-seven cents?” Ever since the banks were bought out by the government, the sale prices of goods and services were regulated. Those regulations made the prices even across the board, but the caveat was that certain prices did not end on a solid dollar amount which resulted in an increased processing fee absorbed by the banking institution. No one wanted to admit that the people were being robbed blind by regulations, but the fact remained: they were in fact being robbed blind by these hidden costs that were the financial equivalent of stepping on loose nails.

  The old man scoffed and shrugged. “Taxes and processing.”

  Ben dug his card from his pocket and scanned it. “More like bullshit and more bullshit. You know the bank rounds up on purchases that don’t land on even dollar amounts, so why do we have these taxes and processing if it’s only going to take more money from my account? I know this was the banks doing, but I’m sure the government has their hand in that as well.” Ben bitched about everything, but nothing with as much enthusiasm as he did about money and government. He shoved the card back into his pocket to be lost amongst all the random, unnecessary clutter he often carried with him. He liked to consider himself prepared for anything, but really he was just too preoccupied with the next thing his mind focused on to remember to empty his pockets semi-routinely.

  “We both fought for the same bullshit,” the man said.

  The irony was Ben hadn’t fought for anything, his service cut too short to even mention. Not that he let that small fact keep him from mentioning it when it was beneficial to do so. “Yeah, so what’s your name?”

  “I’m Greg, but my buddies call me ‘Reg’ for short.”

  Ben laughed at the asinine shortening of Greg’s name. “I’m Ben,” he said, restraining from saying, “but you can call me ‘En’ for short.”

  “Well, good luck, Ben. Make sure you heed my advice about the supplies, though. I wouldn’t want you getting caught out there and no hope of coming back.” His words felt like a warning, but Ben shrugged it off.

  “Thank you, ‘Reg’.” Ben extended his left arm, the one with the prosthetic, and waited for Greg to shake his hand. The old man hesitated for a moment, the rudimentary construction of Ben’s arm taking some getting used to. It definitely isn’t as well constructed as Greg’s leg is, Ben thought, but it’s all I have for now.

  Greg took Ben’s hand in his own and it was at that moment Gli+ch decided to act up. To Ben’s horror, the synchro motors shorted again and sent an electrical arc into Greg’s open hand. Greg winced from the pain but did not cry out as he pulled his hand away. Letting go of Ben’s hand had a negative side effect as it sent it convulsing wildly as the electricity coursing through it searched for a suitable ground.

  Greg jumped back, narrowly missing the metallic hand as it whizzed past his face, a blue arc emanating from the fingertips. “What the fark!”

  Ben pulled his arm back too, “I’m so sorry. It’s a gli+ch in the synchro motors; they go out of phase from time to time and short each other out.” He pulled a jeweler’s screwdriver from his pocket and started toying with the exposed hardware tucked in the cavity of the elbow. Sparks shot out of his arm each time the tip of the screwdriver made contact, but he was oblivious to it as he concentrated on expediting the repair and making up for his embarrassing display. After fifteen seconds of manipulation, his arm settled down, coming to rest in a more natural pose. “I’m sorry again. It happens all the time. Well not all the time, but enough of the time it might as well be all the time.”

  “The government gave you that?”

  “Yeah, well it’s a long story, but me and Gli+chy have a history,” he said sheepishly, with only a small amount of pride in his voice as he thought about all the work he put into creating her.

  “You named it?” Greg chuckled, the scornful look on his face being replaced with softer laugh lines as his lips opened into a wide smile.

  Ben shrugged. “I mean she needs to be called something.”

  “And it’s female?”

  “Well, female-ish. She doesn’t really identify as a gender, but she doesn’t complain when I refer to her as ‘her’ you know?”

  “Yeah, not really.”

  Ben shrugged again, not knowing what else to say. He thought Greg might understand, considering he was an amputee too, but it was clear he was just another person who viewed his augmentation as a tool. Gli+ch was something else to Ben, almost like a family member. She wasn’t perfect, but she was perfect to him.

  “Here’s your vouchers, son,” Greg said, extending his hand with two vouchers for Ben’s impending flight. “You have a takeoff manifest window from Noon on Friday until noon on Sunday. Call the number on the bottom of the voucher to arrange a specific time for launch.”

  “I will,” he said, reaching with his left hand to take the vouchers—until Greg pulled back. “Sorry.” Ben lowered his left arm and used his right hand. Greg handed them over with no problem then.

  “Don’t forget what I
said about supplies. I don’t want you getting to Europa unprepared.”

  “Yeah, thanks for looking out,” Ben replied, annoyed by the fact Greg kept insinuating that this trip was a waste of time. I read the brochure on the Net. I at least got enough of the key points to make an educated decision, and this was what I want to do; to fly off Earth and stake my claim on a foreign world, to get rich and forget about the failures of the past.

  “Have a good day, sir.”

  “You too,” Ben said without looking up. He turned to leave, out into the downpour outside. At least I got what I came for, and I have a few days to get the Shistain ready for the flight and load her up with supplies. This is going to be an awesome trip, he thought as he tucked his vouchers deep into his jacket pockets to keep them from getting drenched. As for him, he wasn’t even dry yet from when he arrived, so what was a little more rain? Besides, after this week I might never see rain again.

  chap+er +wo

  The Net was the next best thing to being a god. It had the answer to all of your prayers. You need food? The Net can provide it. You need clothing? Seek it out on the Net. You have potentially nine months floating in vacuum in a five-hundred square-foot transport? Preserve your life and sanity by getting what you need on the Net.

  The most amazing thing about it was how the government awarded the use of the Net by giving free credits to users. Never mind the fact that the hidden cost behind its use was what provided the funds to extend those credits. Psychologically, it felt like free money to the average person and who could say no to that? Ben saved his credits each year for a large purchase and was thankful for using that system because nine months of supplies was not cheap, regardless of how frugal one tried to be.

  After a few hours of perusing the Net, his eyes were growing tired as his account grew lower. “I think I have everything I’ll need,” he whispered, brushing his hair back out of his face. He was thankful it was dry now, at least. Walking through the library soaking wet got him several dirty looks, and the air conditioning made him shiver uncontrollably. Now he was back to normal, tucked away in a corner where he could avoid the leery, judgmental eyes of the librarian.

  “Nine cases of protein tubes. Assorted flavors. Twenty-ounce packets. Individually sealed,” he said softly into the microphone. The Net obeyed his commands as he searched for the best deals available, the lowest price at the top of the page as each inquiry populated through a set of filtered search criteria until he found precisely what he wanted. “Current selection. Buy now. Authorize purchase.” The selection entered into his “Recent Purchases” cart, and he continued to scroll through a myriad of other goods, trying to find out what he would need to occupy his time.

  The easiest way to kill time on the ship would be to sleep, but there was no way he could sleep that much. He would need some form of entertainment. He already purchased more than one-hundred documentaries on the history of the world and science. All things that he found interesting compared to the mind-numbing sitcoms that often filled the shelves of most people’s video drives. He might not have a scientific mind, but he did suffer from boredom if he wasn’t forced to think about what he was watching. Most people would think it was odd to be entertained by such things, but Ben cared nothing about what those types of people thought.

  He added another set of documentaries about World War IV to his cart. He had no idea if he would have time to get to the twenty-hour documentary on top of everything else he’d purchased, but he bought it anyway. Purchasing the media was one thing, but waiting for the rudimentary computer system on the Shistain to download all of the digital files would take more than a day to accomplish, and he knew he would have to act quickly if he was going to get a head start on everything else that needed to be done prior to launch.

  Ben manipulated the screen, using the hand-sized ball on the desktop. He rolled it towards him, watching with wide eyes as every manner of sex-bot became visible, from the most rudimentary to the most lifelike. There was no denying which kind he was most attracted to as the monitor stalled around a grid of voluptuous sex-bots. Most looked similar, with only minor differences in hair color and eye color, and each came with differing shades of skin tone and height. None of those options mattered as much to him as the assets he was looking for. The selection base was rather broad and they all seemed like suitable companions for his trip. “Which one do I pick?” was the problem—with options being so plentiful, it was hard to pick just one when the next option was just as intriguing.

  I have an idea. Ben closed his eyes and swirled the ball counter-clockwise to send the cursor cycling through the hundreds of options. He counted to ten under his breath before he commanded the Net to stop cycling. “Current Selection. Buy now. Authorize purchase. Close net. Log off,” he made each command with his eyes closed, never peeping to get an idea of which sex-bot he selected. “Yes, this is going to be a fun surprise,” he said, giddiness in his voice. He knew the sex-bot was not a real substitute for a human companion, but when it came to fantasizing, there was no better substitute available. Besides, having the sex-bot around would be more than just a tool he would use to get off. During the lonely venture through space, he would at least need someone he could talk to, especially the further he got from Earth, when communications slowed to a crawl as the signals leapt from satellite to satellite. He wasn’t much for calling home, but he imagined he would dare to look into his father’s disappointed gaze at least once before he reached the mining colony on Europa.

  Ben could hardly remember the last time he saw his father in person. It was a holiday, but which one was a blur. He just remembered it was after the accident, after he built Gli+ch from a bunch of spare parts so he wouldn’t have to go through life with a hook for a hand, since the Army thought the accident was done on purpose. He didn’t need the bullshit stares of people who couldn’t understand why he would put himself in that situation, true or not. His father knew—or at least thought he knew—why his son was given the inferior prosthetic. It didn’t matter that Ben built his own prosthesis; the badge of dishonor was already seen in his father’s eyes. Ben was the family shame now, as undeserving of a title as it was, and he could do little about it.

  Ben left the computer and walked through the narrow bookcases lined with tomes of forgotten history. No one read paper-based literature anymore. Hell, most people no longer were required to know how to read because the net would read to them if they needed it, and write too. All skills were learned visually and all education was limited to what one needed to know, not what they should know. It was a sad truth, he thought as he came into the center of the library. His left arm whirred, the gentle hum of tiny motors rotating sixty-seven times for every single rotation as his forearm spun three-hundred-sixty degrees. He was not controlling it, though. It was just another Gli+ch.

  Without looking, Ben grabbed the small jeweler’s tool and arced across the contacts for that circuit. It was the simplest fault to reset and the least embarrassing of them all. “At least I’m not walking through here smacking myself in the face with you,” he said to Gli+ch, who never answered him, but he knew she understood him. Some strangers looked up at him as he walked past, but he largely ignored them. This was far from his first time dealing with his unruly prosthesis in public. The first dozen or more times were mortifying. Now, he just took it in stride and accepted it.

  “Thank you,” he said to the librarian seated at the donut-shaped desk in the center of the entrance. She merely nodded without looking up, probably more embarrassed by the spastic movement of Ben’s arm than he was. He imagined she probably did that a lot, though. She had the years under her belt to make her grow tired of the quiet loneliness of the library. It was more a place for people like him to use the Net than for anything else. He couldn’t help but think in a different time she would be too busy to just sit there and let life pass her by.

  Outside the rain had stopped, and New York looked like a much happier place, though the thick smog still blotted ou
t what little of the sun could be seen over the tops of the skyscrapers as they lurched towards the glass-ceilinged sky. Somewhere in the atmosphere was a network of digital netting that protected the airspace. The government called it Skyscape and sometimes, in a clear night sky, you could see remnants of pulsing electricity arcing across the sky, but most of the time it was invisible to the naked eye, especially from the ground. That was part of the reason for requiring the voucher; he would have to log a manifest allowing him a window to circumnavigate the Skyscape. Passing through without the proper permission could get his ship blasted to shit by the laser array.

  He used to think it was fiction until a guy passed through it, trying to crash his ship into the Maleto Monument. The only thing from his ship to hit the ground after the weapons engaged was a charred husk of molten metal that fell haplessly to the ground. They said it was laser weaponry, but it defied everything Ben thought he understood about physics. The truth was that the system was most likely alien in nature. Of course, you would never catch a government official saying something of that nature out loud.

  Ben walked to the dock where the Shistain was parked. He had lived on the ship for the last several months to save money on rent and to get used to the cramped living space. Honestly, the ship was roughly the same size as the apartment he’d been renting before, but taking a shower was a cramped venture compared to the sprawling bath he’d enjoyed there. The ship was nestled between several larger craft that held crews of twelve men and women. He knew his flight would be lonely, but the idea of spending months with a group of people he might not like made his skin crawl. He considered his endurance of people he didn’t like during his short stint in the Army as enough to last him a lifetime.

  He walked up to the port side of the Shistain and entered through the crew hatch. It was nothing more than a door with three steps formed on the interior side of it that folded down and allowed him to enter. Ben was not a big guy, but even he had to turn sideways to fit through the small hatch. Once inside, the common area was dark except for the dim interior lighting that was always on. It wasn’t enough light to work by, but it let him see all the areas where he might smash his head if he didn’t duck in time.