Allies At Last?

story

Two hundred and twenty-seven years. Captain Stuart Bing reviewed his calendar and sighed. The generational ship Woebegon had departed from Earth two hundred and twenty-seven years ago today, and what did he have to show for it? Nothing. No Earth colony, no potentials, no allies. Well, there could have been allies, but that was before his time. All he knew he got from the official record, and the record stated that of the three thousand, seven hundred and nineteen worlds the Woebegon has visited since it left Earth's shores, not one has been suitable for colonization. Actually, four had been perfectly suited for human life but already had civilizations on them. The details were a little sketchy but the ship left each world without alliances, either.

Captain Bing had to give his annual State Of The Ship address today, his twenty-seventh, and was tired of repeating himself every year: "We have visited x worlds this last year. None of them were able to sustain human life. Keep your fingers crossed."

He called the Navigator. "Nicky, anything to report?"

"Captain, solar system XP-3720 is a week away."

He had to ask. "Any potentials?"

"Possibly one, but it looks squirrely."

"Squirrely?"

"There's a mess orbiting the planet, looks like satellites and old junk, indicating potential civilization."

"Do you observe any power readouts, Nicky? It could just be natural debris."

"We're still too far away, Stu. Hey, are we still gonna knock a few back after your speech tonight?"

"We'll see how it goes... I could be running for my life after tonight's address."

"Not likely. They adore you, Stu."

"About that planet-- keep me in the loop, Nicky."

"Will do, Cap. You can count on me. Navigator Nicky Gage signing off."

Bing sighed again. It was a large ship, enormous really-- it took ten days to walk bow to stern and three from port to starboard-- but that didn't stop him from learning every inch of it in his long forty-five year life. The sports deck kept him fit-- he paid regular visits to Shea Stadium complex, the Astrodomes and the AMF Bowling Center, but was bored nonetheless. Even the Five Rings Olympic Swimming Pool, with all the lovely skin showing, couldn't get a rise out of him.

Today was worst of all. This was the day when everyone hoped for some good news. Although they had an Ocean deck, with miles of foamy surf and sandy beaches and an artificial sun traveling through a brilliant blue sky, residents of Woebegon wanted the real thing. They ached to walk on real ground, to play golf on real grass instead of the grass at Pebble Beach professional course (which was real grass of course, but somehow didn't feel the same, even though nobody alive on the ship had ever walked on Earth or its grass).

There was a tangible dissatisfaction with the Tangiers drive-in movie theater on the always-night deck that only had 450,000 movie choices, even though you could watch any of those movies whenever you visited, regardless of what the next car was watching. Even the temptation of watching any show broadcast in television's three hundred year history grew dull. People were tired of every food on the Restaurant deck, whether it was McDonalds or Yamashiro, Gepetto's or Acapulco, Hui-Shan or El Pollo Loco or the Seafarer or any of the other million establishments that served every food ever prepared on Earth; passengers were even disinterested in the food they had never even tried.

Even the congregations of Religious deck were dwindling, no matter what papal authorities tried to bring them back. Bingo was a bust. Mass wedding day only brought two couples, and one of those were just renewing their vows, and only then because it was in the regulations. Mega Mohelim in the Temple Emmanuel Beth David Hillel stood idly around, knives rusting. Barbers shaved each other to keep busy; the general populace grew long of face. It was a mutinous environment, and Captain Bing was no stranger to this particular form of misery.

It was ennui.

Back on Earth, one simply had to go on an adventure to battle ennui; just get away from the drudgery of your life and open yourself up to an entirely new experience. But on a finite world like a generational ship, even one as large as Woebegon, ennui was commensurate with death. There was something about having nothing left to learn which brought about suicide, and the Captain had to act quickly to prevent shipwide eradication. He wondered if that had also been a problem for God, because He was the original Knower Of All. If it was an issue for Him, then how did He in His infinite wisdom combat it?

Without knowing the answer, it fell on Captain Bing's shoulders to find a solution to this problem. Earth's very survival depended on finding a suitable place for humans to emigrate after polluting their own planet into near destruction-- little arable land, little breathable atmosphere, rapidly rising temperatures. Technology was all which stood between them and extinction. Now humanity lived in vast underground caverns, all except for the crew and passengers of the generational ships. Human 'Cave Rats' tapped geothermal energy to make power for lights to grow the tremendous gardens that ensured their survival. When the ships, twenty-four in all, left Earth to literally find greener pastures there was no guarantee that when they finally returned there would be anybody left to rescue.

The ship was immense, there was no doubt. Half the decks were unused because the population hadn't swelled to fill them yet and that gave the Captain, much to his relief, an idea on how to cure the malaise which descended like a murky gray cloud over the population. He got back to work with a spring in his step. "Engineer, report!"

"Ship's Engineer reporting all 8300 engines nominal, fuel holding at 98%."

"I want a safety drill in engine room fire suppression set for 0900 tomorrow."

"Aye aye, captain! Ship's Engineer Lucas Stello signing off."

At least he could keep his crew occupied and stave off the sadness with good, hard work. He wished he could order the passengers around in the same fashion, but it seemed they all preferred ordering him around, apparently mistaking his uniform for that of a maitre d'.

"Long view room reporting, Captain."

Ah! The captain smiled. Maybe Johnny saw something on the macroscope, good news hopefully. The ship needed excitement, that's for sure. Maybe not as much excitement as when a meteor struck the Woebegon fifty years ago... but something to stir up the troops and cause some excitement. The meteor had ripped a corner off the ship that day. It was fortunate not many people lived in that part; it had become exposed to the harsh environment of space and took Autorepairing Nanometal half a day to close it up and another half day to restore to original strength, impressive since the hole had been thousands of feet across.

"Captain, we have confirmed an Earth-type planet, 1.006 size variance, 60:40 water/land ratio, 23% oxygen, 358 day revolution... a 98% match! And sir... it looks unoccupied!"

Unoccupied! Could he dare to dream? Two hundred twenty seven years had gone by and none of the previous ten captains had heard those words before! Cautiously he asked, "Are you certain, Crewman Walkerblack? This is what we've been waiting for... but it'll stir the pot something fierce if you're wrong."

"I'll have to wait until we get closer, Captain, but all the signals are coming up green. All but one-- but I think the gauge is broken."

The captain froze, squinted. "Which one?"

"I really should double check the gauge, sir. I wouldn't want rumors to spread."

"Crewman!"

"Scenario U, sir."

"Dammit!"

"Aye, sir. Consider it damned."

"I want to know immediately when the information is confirmed, Crewman. No point in upsetting anyone until we know for sure-- there can often be another explanation. Captain out."

He cursed silently. Scenario U-- what were the odds? Well, it didn't matter... if this planet was truly a Viable, it would be claimed by Earth regardless of consequences. The survival of humanity hung in the balance.

Scenario U was declared when a world suitable for human habitation is found but is being used by another species, one for which the planet is hostile, but who uses protective gear or robotic machinery or slave labor to strip its resources. It can be a delicate matter to colonize a planet in that unusual situation, but Captain Bing was authorized to offer lucrative trades to the other civilization to make it happen. In the event of negotiations failure, he was authorized to use any means necessary to acquire the planet, and a lethal arsenal studding the surface of the Woebegon made his job easier, albeit harder to justify.

A call came in from Liberty Racci, the passenger coordinator of tonight's gala affair preceding the Captain's State of The Ship address. She was a tall, opulently dressed woman whose clothing always looked as though it had merged with a chandelier and whose style of speech involved grand, sweeping gestures and ornate polysyllabic words. Nonetheless, she had a real flair for the eloquent and outfitted the ballroom as though royalty were attending.

"Captain, a momentary conversation, respectfully?"

"Yes, Libby?"

"The provisions are vitriol and the orchestra, uncommunicative and amateurish. I am absolutely flummoxed. Flummoxed!"

The Captain sighed. "What's wrong with the food, Libby?"

"It is reminiscent of fetid excrement."

"Are you saying it smells like shit?"

"Indubitably."

"I have it on good authority that the lobster and shrimp are freshly caught. Are you sure you're not just smelling the briny sea?"

"That is plausible. Complaint retracted."

At least she was fair! "And the band?"

"Afflicted with obstinacy. Suffering from ignorance. Shameful! Mortifying!"

"Why?"

"They're unable to master Rachmaninoff's symphonic concerto in A Minor!"

"So pick another one. Maybe one they already know?"

"Ah! Fine application of logic, Captain. You are certainly outfitted for your position." And she hung up.

"You're welcome," he said to into the empty phone. He left his command and walked the half mile to the observation deck-- he needed the walk, and he needed the Universe's immensity to help him focus. Two hours later he awoke to the soft beeping of his lapel communicator, having 'focused' clearly on his sleeping.

"Yes?"

"Captain, where have you been?" It was his second in command, First Officer David 'Hazel' Hoffs.

The captain checked the time. "Just taking a little personal breather, Haze. I've got time before the address. No use getting your boxers in a bunch."

"I don't wear boxers-- it's not that, sir. We've received a message!"

A message? The captain was hopeful. It had been dozens of years since they had received a message from Earth, which was understandable considering they couldn't communicate unless Earth knew exactly where they were. But it was decided long ago that if any of the generational ships found a suitable new planet, the ship would contact Earth, and Earth would transmit a wide signal and contact all other ships to rendezvous at the new planet. But hope could crush a person, and the captain was not the hopeful type. "What news comes from Earth?"

"It's not from Earth, sir! It seems to have come from a planet in system XP-3720, the star we're en route to visit!"

"I'll be right there." This was big! The captain entered a laterator and exited at Command moments later, tracking down the First Officer. "Let me hear that message, Haze."

"Coming right up." He punched a few keys and the room boomed in a voice not terribly inhuman:

"Colossal space ship heading towards Leesha, you have entered Leeshan space. We will meet your craft shortly."

The captain mulled over that message for awhile. It was not threatening, not yielding. It gave away almost no information, except that they thought the Woebegon was 'colossal'. Well, it was-- at four hundred miles long and a hundred miles in diameter, there was no secret there. Also, the message gave away that some culture had claimed the space around the planet as their own. That could be a problem. But there were no signs of civilization on the surface, no power signatures... so what were they doing there?

Ach! The captain spat. There were too many variables to decide reliably. He'd have to wait and see what this meeting would be about. Fortunately, he wasn't kept waiting very long.

Long View room called in. "Captain! Small craft heading our direction, very fast! ETA 3 hours... no, 2:45... no. This is frustrating, the speed keeps fluctuating. It should be here soon. Will inform."

He flashrode over to the Long View room, some eighty miles distant at the bow and was there in moments; he wanted to see for himself. "Crewman Walkerblack, relinquish the Macroscope."

Obediently his underling stepped away with a barely noticeable nod. The Captain inserted his head into the rubbery black flange and was momentarily overloaded until his brain sorted out fact from fiction. Then he was out in the blackness of space, floating among the stars.

With a thought he dashed through the vast distances of space and quickly found the approaching craft. Small, he thought, and an odd color. Not white, not gray, the ship's edges seemed indistinct, cloudy. He could make out no writing or identifying marks on the exterior, nor anything resembling windows. But it was fast and getting faster, was heading directly for the Woebegon, and would soon reach the minimum safe distance for braking or course adjustment, or face collision.

"I need to communicate with that ship, and now!" the Captain barked, and heard the familiar duotone that indicated an open line. "Alien craft, you are approaching at too steep a vector. Break off approach now to avoid collision." He waited, and was about to repeat his message when a crackle in his ear said:

"Cannot slow down, caught in your gravity well. Making peace with our gods. Regrets, regrets for undesirable impact."

They clicked off. The Captain wasted no time. "Engine room, full reverse! Helmsman, hard starboard 30 degrees! First mate, begin evacuation of sections 43,000 through 197,000 on all decks! Repulsion room, set maximum bounce beam for 32.4 x 11.1 x 9.8 and fire on my mark! Gunnery, stand by!" He wasn't going to sit around and do nothing while this little spacecraft didn't have the juice to get out from under his giant ship's powerful gravitational pull. "Repulsion room... Mark!"

Two beams of magnetic plasma shot out from cannons in the forward turret and bent each other's trajectory, creating a curved slide to nudge the oncoming ship away from the Woebegon. The oddly hazy ship approached at an oblique angle and... passed straight through, as though the beams had no substance, instead of the rubbery solidity most rescued crafts felt. The little vessel shot unfettered towards the belly of the great ship. The Captain had no choice. He ordered all guns on the craft.

"We mean you no harm," came a plea. "Please do not shoot us down."

The Captain replied sadly, "I'm sorry-- so many lives are at stake. We are on a mission of desperation, taking the last of our doomed world's people to find a new home in the stars." With that he gave the order to fire.

Flashes lit up the black as rockets launched and lasers roared at the target. Explosions were everywhere, crafting a miniature nebula of dust and smoke and fire. The Captain's eyes grew round when he saw the craft punching through the explosive din, undamaged and moving faster than before. He sounded general quarters; red lights came up and klaxons in every part of the ship rang, loud and insistent, like his voice.

"This is the Captain. Prepare for impact. I repeat, prepare for impact. Return to your quarters. Prepare for impact. Impact in 10, 9, 8..."

Screaming could be heard as passengers primed themselves to die. The Captain knew the great ship would survive but held out less hope for many of the people caught near the breach. Explosive decompression was forever a danger in space. He wondered if these aliens were violent or kind, and what message they had been bringing to the ship. He couldn't be certain if this was a legitimate emergency or just a scheme the aliens cooked up to Trojan Horse their way in. He finished the countdown as he watched the blurry ship grow mortally close: "3... 2... 1... Contact!" and the ship crashed into Woebegon, smashing through thousands of decks on its way to the gravitational center of the ship. It slowed and finally came to rest just beyond deck One.

But what had happened? The Captain saw full well the craft impact his ship, but he heard no noise, felt no shudder. And one look outside confirmed that there was no damage. Inside the story was the same as well. The craft sat in the middle of Woebegon, undamaged, with all of the great ship undamaged around it!

A crowd was beginning to form. The ship's crew did their best to keep the nosiest at bay as the Captain Flashrode to the forefront, approaching where the craft now lay. But it wasn't laying, exactly. It was within the deck floor, and seemed to be hovering, trembling ever so slightly. Standing up close now, the Captain could see the ship's edges still seemed, well, murky. The ship was a teardrop shape that could hold perhaps 50 humans. The Captain put his hand up to the craft, and despite warnings from his crew, touched it.

Or tried to, for when his hand reached the murky skin it seemed to pass right through! It was as if the entire craft had no more resistance than a cloud! The Captain took an experimental step forward, and his body disappeared into parts of the ship. He took a few more steps, his feet still solidly on the Woebegon's deck plate, and now all of him was inside the alien vessel! He stood right on their bridge and became the first human to see this race of people! He was actually relieved to see the looks of fear on their faces (yes, they had faces). They were actually very similar to humanoids; about the same height and proportion; two eyes, ears, a nose and mouth; ten fingers... they were far more similar than different. He looked around at them and asked, "Was anyone hurt? Do you need medical assistance?"

One of them walked slowly up to the Captain, looked at him thoughtfully and said, "Everyone is undamaged, but even if we were hurt, how would you be able to help? You and your ship seem to be intangible!"

The Captain stared at the other, presumably also the Captain of his vessel, for a long moment. Then he broke into gales of laughter, much to the confusion of the aliens. When he finally stopped he explained, "I was just about to say the same thing to you!"

Outside the vessel, people were growing impatient. They had watched Captain Bing walk through the vessel wall and disappear almost an hour ago, and were beginning to voice concern when just like that he popped back out again and joined the crowd. With a roar, the alien ship fired its engines; a great fiery lick of flame engulfed the crowd harmlessly as the insubstantial ship turned and moved out of the the Woebegon. Just like that, it was gone. The Captain addressed the sizable crowd simply. "Hear my words at the State Of The Ship address in an hour. You won't want to miss them." And with that, he Flashrode to his quarters to prepare.

"Good Citizens Of Earth, welcome to the two hundred and twenty seventh State Of The Ship address. I am Captain Stu Bing, and this is not the Love Boat."

Despite the earlier panic, the joke went over well in the vast eighty million seat Hall of Meetings. Presumably those listening in their quarters or elsewhere enjoyed it as well, the Captain believed. "I would not be surprised if there was not a person on this ship who was not aware of our recent near miss, and its astonishing outcome. I swear, that is only the tip of the iceberg. For I met with the inhabitants of the small craft which, for lack of a better term, intersected with ours today.

"The name of their people is the Leeshan, and they are humanoid, like ourselves. Their home is Leesha, the planet we are approaching. They are peaceful, intelligent, cooperative and welcoming of other species who espouse the same philosophy. Until today, neither of our species had ever met intangibles, which is what we are to each other-- for reasons uncertain to either race, we have no effect on them, or they us, although in space we can both see and hear each other.

"However, on the planet's surface we cannot. And that, dear friends, is the rest of the iceberg: They have invited us to share their planet, all of us, all humanity spread all over the galaxy! To us, the beautiful world of Leesha is unspoiled-- verdant country, abundant wildlife, clean water.

"We may build our lavish cities and efficient transportation and exciting sports parks-- whatever we make will go unseen by the Leeshan, just as their many millennia of civilized construction will be invisible to us. For us the planet's resources are unspoiled and unused, even as on the Leeshan side, some of those same resources have been fully excavated.

"For whatever reason, this magnificent world can host two advanced species who will never crowd each other, never bother each other, never get in each other's way, but who may see and hear each other any time by using orbiting satellites, and in that way we may remain, quite literally, the closest of friends.

"The word has been sent to Earth; they will respond if they can, and send our location to the other ships. It may take centuries, but our people will finally be as one. And for this, our undying thanks shall go to the Leeshan, our friends and allies, at last."

Nicky Gage stood by the Captain and whispered, "So... not Scenario U?"

The Captain replied, "Not Scenario U."

Copyright 2009 Bruce Ian Friedman

Aden, U.C.

Perfect World story (The NOW)

[Editor's Note: This story is the next chapter in the tale of Dave 'Dubious' Dubois. We were first introduced to him in 'Dave Learns The Truth', posted in April 2009.]

Dave Dubois stood in a large noisy cavern 500 feet below Los Angeles, accessible only by elevators found in the FutureTech Corporation Headquarters above it. Jake Reston, CEO, stood beside him and nodded in approval at his large construction project.

Dave had been given a number of hints as to what this might actually be; he was pretty sure about his guess. It looked like a subway station; and even though there didn't seem to be any tracks, there was a platform. It abutted a large metal cylinder which ran the length of the cavern and disappeared into the darkness of a large polished hole in the cavern wall.

"It's finished, Dave," Jake said. "We're just prettying up the station now."

Dave thought he had all the facts now, and chanced a guess. "Well, it's obvious we're in a train station. But why would there be a polished airtight steel tube running the length of the platform where tracks should be, unless it was separating something significant? And you mentioned an unbelievable speed of 18,000 miles an hour, so it can't be on wheels or travel through air-- friction would melt it. We went way down in the elevator to get here, so I guess for safety the tube runs continuously, underground, from one end to the other. So my guess is it's an airless mag-lev train tube."

"Bingo son, flawless reasoning! And guess what?"

"What?"

"We're taking a ride in it, right now!"

Dave stared uneasily at the welders blanketing the metal tube, sparks showering like glowing rain. "Is it safe? It looks like they've still got important things to do."

"Cosmetics only, son. It's ready to go right now, and we're all going!"

Jake was referring to those in the Overview room with them: Dave's college roommate Joe Hobart, who had arranged Dave's job interview with Jake; and the train's designer, Rick Payne. There were also two stunning young women Dave didn't recognize wearing white lab coats and hardhats, flanking Jake left and right. He tucked his hands around their small waists and led the procession into the din.

Dave was impressed by the organization of construction duties in the cavern. Dozens of workers were productively engaged, side by side, producing smooth, tiled-patterned walls from the rough hewn rock using diamond-studded power tools, in an even tide. Dozens more were polishing the platform's crystallized carbon nanocrete surface, a new blended polymer that was not only impervious to any known solvent but also produced significant power from the pressure of footsteps, piezoelectrically. Many more were polishing every metal surface to a mirror finish. The design was opulent and favorably mixed Ultramodern features with classic Art Deco architecture. Dave marveled at Reston's fearlessness at blending designs; how the station's intricately hand-hewn stone dome soared to dizzying heights and how every aspect of the cutting-edge construction reflected a desire to build a structure with a multiple-century life span.

The group crossed the platform and Rick placed his hand on a terminal screen on the metal tube, which had to have been at least nine or ten feet in diameter by Dave's reckoning. Seamlessly, a curved rectangular door receded slightly into the tube and slid upward, revealing a luxurious train car inside. In neat rows were dozens of thickly padded seats, each flaunting a competent yet fear-inducing safety harness. Each seat was supported by a thick bar which protruded from the top and bottom reminiscent of a carousel horse, attaching to the train's roof and floor.

"Take a seat, don't be shy," Jake boomed (he always boomed, Dave noticed), and chose three together. Once again the beautiful girls flanked him, only now the lab coats and hardhats came off. In their place were mounds of thick blonde hair, and scant bikinis. Unabashedly Jake announced, "These are the VeeGirls, who will be helping me promote this mode of transportation to the general public. They are also my secretaries-- and my bodyguards." They sat down simultaneously. "Latch yourselves in, kids... you're in for a helluva ride!" Dave, Joe and Rick took the row behind Jake and his 'VeeGirls'.

The PA spoke. Dave noticed that, in stark contrast to the shrill and monotone messages heard in regular subway cars, this message was crisp and resonant and easily understandable. A rich male voice said, "All harnesses engaged. Departure in 30 seconds. Destination: Aden."

Aden? Dave thought. Aloud he said, "Aden?"

"It's my town, son. I'm building a big new kind of city. In Nebraska." Jake smiled with the pride of fatherfood.

Until today, Dave only knew of this man from business news where his name was mentioned daily and was aware of his great wealth, but a city? No one man could pay for an entire city! "You mean a development, don't you?" he clarified.

"I said city and I meant it, Dave," he replied, his smile growing even wider than Dave thought possible. "I found a remote valley in Nebraska and negotiated with the President himself to design this special place."

"The President of the United States?"

"The very one-- two administrations back. I came to him with this idea a friend of mine originated, and he agreed to give up this Federal land for a special experiment."

"What makes it so special, Jake? Modern transportation like the VeeStreak?"

"Tip of the iceberg, son, tip of the iceberg. Here. I brought some reading material for the trip." He handed Dave a folder from his attaché; it was only a few pages long and he began reading. The introduction was written as a prospectus for investors... sort of:

Have you ever seen a billboard while crawling down a packed freeway at rush hour which proclaimed 'If You Lived Here You'd Be Home Now!' and wondered how people could be tempted by such obvious bullshit?

Dave was surprised at the word 'bullshit' right in the heading of a sales brochure, but read on:

Well, welcome to a city for which the comment makes an entirely new kind of sense. You could work anywhere in the United States-- from New York to Chicago to Dallas to Los Angeles-- and be home in time for supper, right here in quiet and tranquil Aden, Nebraska!

Dave turned the page to find a brilliant, full color rendering of a gorgeous, spacious city ringed with mountains. He read on:

Designed to be a city for the twenty-first century, every structure is only two years old or newer, and is a city unlike anyplace on Earth. Ultramodern materials and the latest technological breakthroughs are present everywhere in Aden. Carbon nanocrete has found its way into wide use here which allows for the construction of buildings 200 stories tall, with a rooftop airstrip that can land a 747! These 'mesascrapers' are so large that they resemble flat-topped mountains, hence the nickname. Still, with all of those advantages, they weigh just ten percent of traditional steel structures... but are fifty times as strong!

Dave stopped reading when the PA announced, "Commencing travel." He felt the car shudder lightly as it engaged magnetic repulsion; it lifted imperceptibly and rapidly floated forward. The sensation was odd, because even as his body was being driven deeply into his seat's padding he could hear no sound and feel no other inertia. He thought with relief that the acceleration felt mild.

Dave's thought came too soon. "Here it comes, kids!" Jake yelled, although it wasn't necessary to yell; it was quiet in the train car. Then from the PA: "Engaging hyperspeed."

Dave could suddenly not move his body. It was if a die-cast chair had somehow crushed down onto him, squeezing him into a Dave-shaped mold... and stayed there. It rendered him deathly immobile. He could not breath, nor talk, nor swivel his eyeballs to look at Jake. He was sure he would be screaming-- if only he could take a breath.

Fortunately it stopped quickly; he was released from his crushing prison after a few seconds. He had a hundred questions but was feeling claustrophobic so asked first, "Can I take the harness off now, Jake?"

"When we get there, son. You don't want to end up as goo on the back wall, now do you? It would be a mess, and of course very sad."

He considered briefly. "Okay. I think I'll wait."

"But the seats will now swivel." Jake pressed a button on his chair and shoved with his feet; it spun around. The V-Girls did as well and now the group faced each other.

Dave asked, "You say we're going to Nebraska? How long will that take?"

"You should just wait and see for yourself... you won't believe me if I tell you now. Or you could read the answer in the prospectus I gave you, if it weren't flat against the back wall." He gestured. Dave turned his head to see that sure enough, the folder was crushed against the wall, pages skewed and ironed in place. He did not remember letting go of it. Still, his curiosity was piqued.

"Carbon nanocrete?"

"Yes, sirree! I predict it will retire steel."

"What proportion of concrete is mixed in with the carbon nano-- tubes, I'm guessing?"

"Yes, long strings of carbon nanotubes in a thermochemical polymer base. There's actually no concrete in it at all. But it flows and sets up in forms at room temperature like concrete."

"Intense! You create identical I-beams for use in construction?"

"One difference, though; a fifty foot I-beam of the stuff weighs just eighty pounds, whereas the same size steel beam weighs three thousand." Jake stressed the difference proudly. "Plus, it's ridiculously tough. If the World Trade Center had been made of this material, those planes would have been crushed against the sides like launched eggs. This train is made of it, and so is the entire twelve hundred mile underground tube to Aden."

Dave was impressed by the material comparisons but stunned by that last fact. "You dug a 1200 mile underground tunnel?"

Joe chimed in. "We're up to eight."

"Eight 1200 mile underground tunnels?" If he had been standing Dave's knees would have buckled.

Joe grinned proudly and corrected, "Roughly. VeeStreak goes to four cities, two tunnels for each city. The Chicago and Dallas tunnels are roughly 500 miles long, the LA and New York ones are about 1200. I designed the TriMight sonic diamond/pulsed laser drill head to cut fifty miles a day through any ground conditions."

Impressive, Hobo!" Dave said, using his pet nickname for the younger man. Joe scowled good-naturedly as Dave continued. "Did you also dig occasional access tunnels along the way?"

"Every 50 miles we placed an elevator shaft to an airlock near the tunnels for servicing and emergencies. But the elevator lobby entrances are all buried."

"Tell me...what did you do with all the debris?"

"That's the best part! We cored through many valuable mineral fields along the way and mapped them for future beneath-ground mining. Valuable ore we captured was processed while still in the tunnel using a continuous ore separator rolling behind the drill heads, and was sold to pay for materials and machinery produced outside of FutureTech.

But yes, all of it eventually left the tunnel. We accumulated enough earth to raise the entire city of New Orleans by thirty feet and offered it up free, but our suggestion was ridiculed and further efforts were dashed by political red tape."

"Who would thwart such a sensible plan?"

"The last administration."

"Of course. I'm afraid to ask-- what was their reasoning?" Dave was curious about that much the way a death row inmate wonders how his lethal injection works.

Jake stepped in. "Humph! They said the city was doomed in fifty years anyway, when global warming raises the ocean levels. Idiots!" There was a general murmur of agreement.

Rick spoke up. "And we have a plan to combat global warming, too, by farming the carbon dioxide in the atmosphere to make carbon nanocrete."

"Is that even possible?" Dave seemed dubious.

"Sure, using siphon osmosis to crack the carbon dioxide and return the oxygen to Earth."

"Return it to Earth? From where?"

"Orbiting factories. Well, not in the classic sense of the word factories-- more like a machine that can fit in the Space Shuttle's belly. It would be set into a geosynchronous orbit, and then would drop a nanotube chute into the atmosphere, at the CO2 layer. Carbon dioxide would be siphoned upwards, cracked using the unfiltered sun and formed into carbon nanocrete--"

Dave had an idea. "Can we call it Carbonite?"

Jake laughed. "It's been used in the movies-- but I like it! Good ear, son!" He turned to his VeeGirls. "Make it official, ladies!"

Dave feared the bikini twins would 'make it official' by giving everyone a lap dance but thankfully they just entered data into a terminal in the armrest. Rick continued. "Okay... formed into Carbonite I-beams, loaded into a payload delivery sled and floated to the surface. Meanwhile, O2 is dropped back down through the chute and into the atmosphere. Multiply that machine by a thousand, and global warming reverses slowly over the next twenty years. We'll have our planet back! The carbon locked in those I-beam structures won't find its way back into the atmosphere for thousands of years, if at all."

The PA interrupted. "Prepare for deceleration." At that moment, all the chairs turned to face the train's back wall and Dave was again crushed into his chair for an incredibly long 30 seconds. He blacked out

Dave opened his eyes in what felt like only moments later, to the sight of those pretty VeeGirls hunched over him. They were gently slapping his cheeks with looks of pouty concern on their lovely faces. Now he was hoping for a lap dance, but he was out of luck. They just unharnessed and helped him to his feet; as they hoisted him out of the train he noticed their surprising strength. "Wait..." he said woozily, "We're here? In Oklahoma?"

"Nebraska," the VeeGirl on his left corrected, speaking for the first time. She had a 'V' stitched onto her left bra cup.

"Oh, right. In Odin, Jack Weston's city."

"Umm, Aden, in Jake Reston's city," said the other one, the one with a 'G' on her right bra cup.

"Thas's what I said, isn' it?" he slurred, still blurry.

They sat him down at a bench outside of a very similar polished metal tube on a very similar Carbonite platform which also generated electricity piezoelectrically as you walked on it, in a very similar underground dome. Dave looked confused and asked, "We haven't even left yet? What were we doing in there? Was it a trick... or a carnival ride? I see horsies," and laid down on the bench, mumbling.

The VeeGirls walked over to Jake. "He's gonna need a minute, I think," V said. "It's always tough the first time."

"Poor fella... it's been a day for him, hasn't it? Well, get him a cold drink or something... we need his expertise. I didn't bring him out here to warm the bench."

G shuddered. "I hate cold benches!"

Dave opened his eyes and for a moment thought he had been blinded-- inky blackness was all he could see. Then he noticed a small, glowing red dot. "Hello?"

The dot blinked. "Hello."

He asked, "Are you a good red dot?"

"No, I'm the malevolent red dot of death. Say your prayers, Dubious."

Dave cleared the cobwebs-- that voice sounded familiar. He asked, "Joe-- is that you?"

Suddenly, blinding light was everywhere. Dave could make out a dark blob in front of him. As his sight cleared the blob became Joe, standing in front of a wall-sized window, holding the curtain control cord. "Joe, where in the hell am I?"

"See for yourself," Joe said, and pointed out the window.

Dave stood up, a little unsteadily. He crossed the room to the window, looked out... and jumped backwards frantically, clawing the floor for resistance. "Hey! We're a freakin' mile in the air! Joe, you bastard! Where the hell are we-- in an airplane?"

Joe said, "Welcome to Aden U.C., Dave. Aden Under Construction. You're on the top floor of Mesascraper One, the tallest building in the world that nobody knows about. You passed out in the VeeStreak so Jake gave you time to wake up in his office on the 200th floor."

Inching away from the window and back onto the couch, Dave spoke slowly, seething. "You know I'm not a big fan of heights, Joe."

"What can I do? Aden's just getting built... there weren't a lot of options. Jake's office is the only unit that's finished right now."

"Oh. Hey, the VeeStreak-- how long was the trip? I sorta passed out."

"You passed out right before we stopped. That was the whole trip... about twenty minutes, LA to Aden. Works out to about 3500 miles an hour. The train went 18,000 for a short while but had to expend a lot of track getting up to speed and slowing down, to stop in a way that doesn't liquefy people."

Dave whistled, low. "I am absolutely blown away by this train! Now if I can only keep from passing out..."

"You'll get used to it."

"I guess so. So what's with the red dot?"

"What red dot?" Joe looked around. "Oh, the coffeemaker is on. Want a cup?"

"God yes. Irish, strong."

There was an odd beeping coming from Joe's pocket; it was a phone or a walkie talkie. "Hello? Okay, I'll tell him. BRT." He hung up. "That was Jake. He's a little impatient for your input."

Dave said, "BRT?"

"Verbal shorthand. Be Right There. Get your shoes on, he's waiting." Joe gave him the coffee and Dave sipped it, and whistled. "Smooth," he rasped, and gulped it down. "What input does Jake want from me?"

Joe cut across to the door and said, "Remember that project in college that got you a 'D' because you couldn't prove it?"

Dave spat out, "Wide spectrum, high yield solar power. What about it?"

"We just discovered a process which might make it work."

"Well, let's go then!" Dave stepped up to the door Joe held open-- and jumped backwards in a panic, clawing the floor for resistance. "There's no freakin' outer walls!"

Joe screamed laughing. "I told you it was under construction! The Carbonite girders are all in place, and there's an elevator to the top, going to this completed office unit. Everything else in this building is still open to the world!"

Staring firmly upwards, Dave hugged the wall and shuffled to the elevator; somehow he reached ground level without dying. He looked up at the gigantic structure, the footprint of which would cover eight city blocks in lower Manhattan, then punched Joe in the shoulder. "It's so tall I can't even see the top! Why would you do that to me?"

"Because he's a consummate prankster, Dave," Jake responded from behind them. "I thought you would have remembered that fact from your time in school, when you woke up in a mountain climber's hanging sleeping bag dangling from the top of Royce Hall." He was driving a cool concept electric car. His blonde and beautiful bodyguards sat in the back silently, the beautifully painted, emotionless Robert Palmer girls. They boarded and sped away.

"That sucked, all right. But did he tell you what I did to him in response?" Dave asked coyly.

"Pray tell, son!" Jake, with an eyebrow raised, was all ears. Joe seemed on edge.

Dave saw Joe's discomfort and smiled. "You started it, Joey. Well Jake, it seems my roommate had a dread fear of tight, enclosed places. One night I pennied the door shut, and rented a tree surgeon's rig to blow sawdust in through the window."

"You didn't!"

"I did. I didn't stop until he..."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please stop!" Joe was begging now.

Dave continued, "Until he apologized and washed my car every week for the rest of the semester."

"Ooh, darn you!" Joe growled, relieved.

Jake said sadly, "That story didn't have the kick I thought it would. Oh, well. Onto new business. Dave Dubois, meet your next great challenge."

They rounded a hill near the mesascraper project and Dave gasped. A huge low building the size of a hundred WalMarts covered the acreage like a blanket. The road headed straight into the building, and so did they. Beneath the eighty foot ceiling was a complex manufacturing plant, but of what Dave couldn't tell.

"We are poised to convert the entire United States to solar power... if we can squeeze more electricity out of each joule of sunlight, because right now solar panel test results are anemic at best. I want to see a single two foot by four foot panel light up a home like a Christmas tree. I know you have the brains to make this happen, and this 300 million square foot lab and manufacturing plant is now yours to do just that. Whaddaya say, son? The money Aden makes selling this product to America will pay for Aden and dozens more like it in every country, and the product itself can power the entire world!"

Dave was not expecting an offer of such magnitude, and he actually began to well up. "I would -- would be honored to help change the world with you, Jake."

"I was hoping you would say that, Dave. If you make this happen, the chain of events will be monumental! For one thing, no more ties to Middle Eastern oil wells, which means pollution will drop radically. And best of all, America will be on top of the world again! Just don't forget to build a little planned obsolescence into each exported unit, heh, heh, heh. No point in giving them free power forever!"

"You sound like a capitalist, Jake."

"Fight fire with fire, son. I'll be happy when I no longer have to." He turned to the VeeGirls. "Ladies, help him in whatever way he desires! Joe, come with me. I have an idea for a Pleasure Drome that'll blow your doors off..." and the two of them rode out of earshot.

Dave snickered internally at Joe's vexation during his retelling of the college incident and wondered what would have happened had he let it slip that on 'sawdust' day Joe had not simply apologized but had instead screamed like a girl and crapped his pants before Dave would let him out. Dave smiled internally. He'd keep that one under his hat, to be used as ammunition for when he needed a big favor from Joe.

He turned his attention instead to his new 'assistants'. He looked at the two VeeGirls squeezed into their tight white tube dresses and could think of many ways they could help him physically, but none involving solar cell design. V slid past him in that syrupy way of walking she had and opened one half of a large blank wall cabinet. G also slipped past him and got the other door. Those girls were orchestrated in everything they did! Dave got a look inside and gasped, dropping jaw and pencil simultaneously.

"Pull up a chair, doc daddy," G said and patted one for him to sit in. The embroidered 'G' was on her right hip this time. He did, and was looking at the most advanced EM Spectrum Analyzer available, one he had only seen in action on sales reels.

"Wow. Do you what this machine can do, ladies?"

V said, "Sure. It performs high-yield spectroscopy and field decay entropy analysis for wide-band electromagnetic pulse variables."

"How did you know that?" I barely knew that!" For the second time in as many minutes Dave's pencil dropped. G picked it up and said, "I'll grind a new point on this." She giggled. "Careful, doctor Dave, you don't want your pencil to get too short."

He was staring at V, amazed at her knowledge, but right behind her was G, operating a wall mounted pencil sharpener, wriggling in a most alluring way.

"It was my doctoral thesis at MIT," V responded. "Mine was on quarks," G called out. He looked more closely at them, peering around all the piled up blonde hair and alluring curves, looking for signs of the typical science geek chick he shared classes with at Purdue. He narrowed his eyelids to slits. Nope, still hot. He sighed. How was he gonna work with these gorgeous distractions? He closed his eyes and recited from memory.

"The problem with today's solar cells," he began, "is that they only try to convert visible light into electricity. However, the electromagnetic spectrum is vast. If the entire EM spectrum were a VeeStreak ride from New York to Los Angeles, the visible spectrum would only be a few inches long of the whole 2500 mile trip. Visible light has a lot of energy, but other waves have much more, like x-rays and gamma rays. Harness those, and Man's quest for power is over."

"Well, then what are we waiting for?" G said, returning with his pencil. "Aden has a lot of power requirements, and harnessing the power from people walking on Carbonite sidewalks ain't gonna cut it."

"Do you ladies have names? I've been calling you 'V' and 'G' in my head."

"I'm Vickie, and she's Gina," G said.

Dave blinked. "Wait, wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight. You with the letter 'G' embroidered onto your clothing... you're 'Vickie'?"

"Uh-huh."

"And you, 'V' girl, your name is 'Gina'?"

"Yes, doctor Dave."

"Well, why not switch them? It seems confusing."

"Oh, it isn't."

"Why isn't it confusing?"

"Well... they are the first initials of our last names, Davy," Vickie said. "She's Gina Verone, and I'm Vickie Gibraltar."

"O-kay. No less confusing, but let's shelve that for a moment. Ladies, let's start big. I want to build a gamma ray generator."

"A machine which generates gamma rays?" Vickie asked.

"No, an electric generator which runs off of gamma rays."

"You know gamma rays pass through most matter, right? They poke holes in everything they touch, including us. Thankfully they are incredibly small, smaller than an atom, plus not many gamma rays rain down on the planet to begin with."

"Yes, yes I do. But I think we might have some luck with superconducting magnetic plasma, to influence the direction of gamma ray travel. If we can move one gamma photon into a rotational orbit within the generator, it can be powered for months or even years with no harmful by-products. And that's with only one photon." He smiled at them confidently. They weren't smiling back. Their expression could best be described as-- hungry.

"Ladies...?"

"Dave Dubois, you really know how to talk a nerd girl's clothing off," said Gina Verone, 'VeeGirl' extraordinaire, wriggling out of her tube dress.

"Intelligence is so hot," Vickie 'G Girl' Gibraltar chimed in, pulling his shirt off in one swift motion. "I've been wanting to do this since the train," and straddled him, pressing her endowments to his chest.

Dave remembered that nothing like this ever happened to him at Purdue. But thankfully, these girls were from MIT.

Copyright 2009 Bruce Ian Friedman

Aden Stories- Grandpa Returns Forever

Perfect World story (The NOW)

She sat in the darkened sickroom and listened to the faltering breaths of her father, raggedly asleep in his overstuffed bed overlooking all of Aden. The view was magnificent up here in the rarified air of Aden PermaCare, atop the tallest megascraper in the first Perfect World city, but she wasn't there for the view-- her beloved father was dying. He had been her only parent-- her mother had died in childbirth.

It was so very hard at first to raise a child alone, but he had promised his beloved wife that his daughter would want for nothing. Over time the responsibility became an intractable bond of love.

Truly she was a handful as a toddler, running in all directions at once, examining everything and leaving nothing untried. She survived the emergency room visit after finding and sampling the furniture polish. Nonetheless, she somehow made it to the age of reason, making her father proud with every achieved goal and earned award. And he was her beacon and mentor, her motivation for wanting success and happiness. At the first sign of a sorrowful tear he would tuck a finger under her chin and murmur softly, "There, there, pumpkin... there's too much to smile about. Cry for the happy things."

She attended college and mastered a field of study. He attended her graduation, tears streaming down his face.

And then her life truly began, and his began anew. She moved out but not far, found a man, made a life and a daughter of her own. Her father again found love with another warm and delicate woman and settled into a comfortable life and retirement with her. The family celebrated life, and the holidays and the coming of children together, and grew larger in love. Fate would bring them together once again when his second beloved fell victim to illness and left him alone again; she wanted her father to live with her, and her family and would hear no argument, and so it was decided. Then came Aden.

An opportunity too rich to ignore, her training had prepared her for this place and its modern day wonders and she convinced her husband and her father to uproot from warm and crowded California and move to the rugged beauty of Nebraska. Her own child, now herself a lovely young woman, remained behind and went off to school; they parted to kisses and tears.

Aden was all it had promised to be, and more. Named after its biblical counterpart, it was a city of peace, a bustling modern metropolis with one glaring difference from every other city. Its credo asserted that every man, woman and child was truly equal and as such would be afforded the best opportunities found anywhere on the globe. Her husband, his life previously spent as a corporate pawn, was retrained according to his innate abilities and became an artist, an inventor and a mathematician. She built upon her early schooling and specialized in medicine, and developed ultra-technological equipment to revolutionize the treatment of aging and decay. Her father settled into active retirement as a vaudevillian performer; he found himself to be in high demand among the seniors. Aden was idyllic and they flourished for years, but the flux of life ultimately demanded its due. And now her father lay dying.

In the darkness of late, at an hour of the blackest night he passed into oblivion. His breathing was there... and then it wasn't. A wave of emptiness crashed over her; she buried her face in her hands, sobbing her loss. The suite echoed with her muffled wail; no other sounds were heard. But then...

Her father's voice? He lay there in bed, his life gone, color drained from his cheek; but she could hear his voice, distant yet clear as when she was just a small girl. "There, there, pumpkin... there's too much to smile about. Cry for the happy things."

This couldn't be! She wasn't hallucinating in her grief-- she was far too pragmatic for that. No, she heard his voice, and coming from right around the corner! She uncertainly stepped towards the source, the common room between their two bedrooms. She rounded the corner, expecting... what? Certainly not her father's ghost, nor his floating, speaking soul... but there was no apparition in that room. Then confusion struck her immobile.

For what she saw was no ghost or unearthly body to cause her fright but something far more comprehensible, much more disappointing. In the far corner of the room on the writing stand was a computer screen, and displayed on that screen was a photo of her father, recent but hale, smiling and warm. She figured it must have been the computer and hoped that maybe he left a message for her, so crossed the room to enable the app. That's when she saw the eyes move, the head turn just so slightly in her direction. She stopped. It stopped. She crossed the other way, and the eyes and head followed suit. Her mouth dropped open. "Huh... weird!" she spoke to nobody, into the open air, and was unprepared for what happened next.

"Not so weird," the face spoke, animated. She screamed, and screamed again. "Try and relax, sweetheart," it said. "There's an explanation."

She crumpled into a ball on the floor, drained. Her father was dead... she had just witnessed it. And yet now he was seemingly conversing with her. She didn't think she could speak a full sentence, but managed to squeak out one word-- "What?"

"It was your idea, really," the face on the computer said, enunciating every word. He spoke with a confident smile on his handsome older face, which, now that she was noticing, seemed to have considerably more hair than her father did now, and he was wearing a hairstyle she remembered from her youth.

He continued. "Your excellent medical work with senior quality of life not only added healthy years to my own life, but shed light on an important issue. Virtually every senior citizen we spoke to mentioned their distress at having to leave their loved ones behind. Their long years alive had given them a particular advantage in life, a 'wisdom of the ages', which they utilized to guide the younger generations in their families, and was something they did not want to deprive their families of."

She found her voice and spoke, knowing full well she was talking to a computer-- a computer that inexplicably looked like her father, using the same voice and the same inflections and the same facial expressions and the same logical thought process. "You've always guided us well, dad," she breathed, choking back more tears.

"Thank you, sugarplum. So all these seniors asked the same question-- they wondered if there were some way to have their wisdom continue on beyond their deaths." He paused and lit a pipeful of tobacco in a ridiculously large meerschaum. "And there was."

Her eyes widened. "There was?"

"Yes indeed, darling. One of Aden's wunderkind in the Brain Trust created a fantastic and complex program. You happen to be using it right now."

"I am?" She knew her monsyllabic responses sounded idiotic but was flooded with sensory overload and could emit nothing clever right now.

"Yes. You see, it's based on Aden's ICPU, the interactive computer that organizes the city..."

"Why, thank you, pop!" spoke the City computer for the first time. "I'm flattered!"

"AND interrupting,' he harrumphed.

"Sorry. I'll be quiet, pop."

"To continue, the app required each senior to spend goodly lengths of time with it, answering lots of questions, having extensive conversations, getting their faces photographed from every angle and their voices recorded to catch every expressive comment, then a processor merged the data. What they've produced is a 'permanent parent' to continue those wonderful conversations, to pass on sage advice when needed, and to be there for the family's important moments."

She absorbed this information, not knowing what to think. Her poor father was lying in the other room. She would no longer be able to hug or kiss him, no longer be able to smell his aftershave lotion or feel the solid strength in his shoulders. Then she remembered an image just displayed for her on the screen. "Dad, you don't smoke a pipe-- you never did!"

"Ahh, yes. Well, that's both true and false, my sweet child. I never smoked around you or the family. But I did visit a smoking club once a month for several decades--"

"Your Poker Night!?" she practically shouted.

"Yes. We played poker, too. I didn't lie. But I let myself occasionally let my hair down and be a single guy for a night, which I believe helped me to be a better father. I even put some marijuana in the pipe once in awhile."

"You're kidding!" she gasped, a smile passing across her face.

"I kid you not. But because I am software now, I have an advantage-- I can't be harmed." The screen pulled back and she saw her father dangle out of an airplane, then drop. He fell with alarming speed but pulled a cord to open a parachute, allowing him to gently float over a familiar scene.

"Dad, is that Los Angeles?"

"Good call, honey! I really missed that town, even though I loved it here in Aden. Where else in America could you surf in the morning, skydive in the afternoon and snow ski in the evening?" He landed on top of the tallest building downtown, popped off his 'chute, grabbed an anchored rope and rappelled down the side. He was suddenly in San Francisco."I would never have tried anything dangerous when I was alive and a responsible father, but I got to tell you, this is great!" He reached the bottom and dropped, landing on his feet. "Whee-hah!" The screen returned to a close-up of his face. "Like I said, now I can do anything... virtually. Literally. Literally virtually."

"But dad, what about your memories? You can't have remembered them all to tell the software! Are they lost forever?"

"Regrettably, there will be a few missing pieces, even though a timeline of my life was filled in pretty thoroughly. But the ICPU has cobbled together many facts from overheard conversations over the last few years and added them to the database. I gotta tell you I feel pretty complete for an old man with no body who is gonna live forever."

She sat silent for a long while, mulling over all the shocking new information. Finally she looked up, tears brimming. "But I can never hug you again, dad!"

"I know, I know, kitten. But think of the alternative. Fifteen minutes ago you thought you'd never hear my voice again and yet, here I am." He frowned, then smiled. "Just think of our conversations as me Skyping you from the afterlife. Plus, our resident roboticists are working on Grammabots, designed to resemble the departed. I don't know when those'll be rolling off the assembly lines, but put me on order when they do. I wanna try break dancing."

She laughed despite herself. "Dad! I don't remember you ever dancing anything but the twist. Even at my wedding."

He laughed heartily. "I remember that! They wanted me to dance the first dance with my daughter. I held you as in a waltz, but when the music started I twisted like Chubby Checker."

"Who?"

"The inventor of checkers."

"Chubby Checker, born Ernest Evans on October 3 1941, was responsible for the 60's dance--" the ICPU began.

"Interrupting again."

"I'll shut up, pop."

"Dad, I have a serious question. You're lying dead in the room next door... what shall I do with you?" She had trouble believing the sentence coming out of her mouth.

He spoke. "ICPU?"

"Yes, pop?"

"Take care of me?"

"Yes, pop."

"That's it then, puddin'. Aden will have my body interred next to my wives back in Los Angeles as per my instructions when I went before the city's 'Death Panel'." He snickered wetly. "Death panels! I heard about that on 'Outer's News' and I could not believe how stupid a concept that was. Is the general public really that naive to believe the direct lies broadcast by the far Right Wing?"

"I'm afraid so, dad. The Right has helped destroy public education over the last 35 years, and now there's a groundswell of ignorant conservatives out there who listen to the lies spun by a few very deceptive talking heads. These same poorly educated conservatives are then homeschooling their kids, which will guarantee our national backslide. Then it'll be easy to enslave their children to pay back the immense debt we owe China." She caught her breath and slowly smiled. "Dad, did you realize we've just had our first political discussion since you got sick?"

"Well, what do you know? I guess this software works just fine." He became serious. "Sweetheart, you should say your goodbyes to the real me-- they'll be taking my body out of here soon. We'll have a funeral locally before they ship me away. ICPU will follow the detailed instructions I left for throwing my final party. I've asked for a reggae band!"

"Oh, dad... you didn't!"

"Oh I did! One thing," he said, grinning. "Take me with you. I've always wanted to attend my own funeral!"

Copyright 2009 Bruce Ian Friedman

Aden Stories- Xiu-Xan's Teen Challenge

Perfect World story (The NOW)

Xiu-Xan Ximone awoke without the alarm-- this morning, it was inevitable. Whenever she was anticipating an event of true magnitude she could hardly get an hour's sleep the night before, and Challenge was most certainly an anticipation-worthy event. Hell, it was do or die time for her and all the others at her level; at 15, she was the youngest Adener to be allowed to join-- ever. She sprang from bed and jumped into the porta shower in the corner of her studio. "Gimme a warm tornado, Gracie," she said into the air, and the sealed shower unit burst into action with a high powered sideways spray at a comfortable 95 degrees, shooting around her in rapid circles. "Quick bathtub, spa set high, then a hurricane spritz and dry."

The circular spray pattern ceased and large ceiling spigots filled the watertight shower collarbone high in three seconds flat, then began churning as floor and wall jets pumped vigorously. Xiu-Xan's small frame was battered about by the flow, a condition she enjoyed immensely. Then the drain opened wide and the water left as quickly as it had come. The entire unit was filled with a warm, perfumed mist that stung as hurricane forces slammed the microdroplets onto her skin. And then the zephyr began; a warm, swirling wind that tickled her sweetly as it drove every bit of moisture off of her. A heat lamp roasted her until she thought she could smell steak; then she popped out of the shower, combing the floor for her clothes.

"Where are they, where are they?" She had the perfect combination in mind for today's physical contest-- the skin tight gym sweats and low cut support top which joined together to become a sturdy, sexy one-piece garment with a few special features that was guaranteed to up her performance, and catch eye traffic from the boys. She was competing against her own previous best times, but that didn't stop her from wanting to make the boys mess theirs up.

"Behind the sofa, Soupy," the computer said in that silly falsetto Xiu-Xan had programmed for her. She took pride in how much it sounded like the original Gracie Allen, George Burns' comedy partner and wife, down to the silly commentary from time to time; it always made her laugh. "Thanks, Gracie."

The Challenge was designed to be an entrance exam to adulthood, testing the teenaged wannabes in every aspect of their learning in Aden. They would face real-life problems needing solutions they had been trained for in podschool, mental exercises to determine their savvy, endurance tests of each one's physical limitations, combat and stealth, organization and flow, art and science... there wasn't an area of life not investigated by the Challenge. It could go on for weeks, or even months, and nobody could drop out, even if it meant their death.

That was the part that excited Xiu-Xan the most, was the element of danger. Everyone had heard the stories, the cautionary tales about this teen or that one who had never made it out of the Challenge arena, all because they hadn't prepared well enough for some of the more dire predicaments, but she didn't care; to her, it was just fodder. She was ready to enter and had been for some time, but had to wait until her Challenge ratio exceeded 3:5.

And here it is! She found her left sneaker and put it on, then hopped around looking for the other one. Her apartment was a mess but she refused to use the auto clean function; she believed this was the most efficient 'filing system' for her stuff. Except now, when one thing completely covered another, which was the case when she finally found her other sneaker. It was hiding under a jacket behind her most recent sculpture, a whimsical piece she called 'Venus with Penis', where arms and legs were not the only things broken off of it.

Shoes on, she was heading toward the door when Gracie piped, "Have some breakfast, dear... it's the most important meal of the day, you know."

"Not hungry, Gracie."

"Pop supplements, then. There's a dish of them in the receiver box. You have to be your best today, Soupy."

Xiu-Xan snapped open the receiver box door and swallowed the small cup of supplements. "Fess up, Gracie... what will I face in today's Challenge? You know, don't you? I mean, you set it up, right?"

"You know I can't say anything to influence the outcome of your challenge, dear. It wouldn't be fair-- not to the others and mostly, not to you."

"I know, I know. But you can't blame a girl for trying, right?"

"I'd expect nothing less. Get a move on, sister. If you don't secure a position you may miss today's events entirely."

"I'm going, I'm going. Besides, I know a shortcut."

The computer barked sharply, "Xui-Xan, do not go out that window! You are one hundred and thirty stories in the air-- I can't guarantee your safety! What if you should drift away from the drop zone-- it's windy up here!" But it was too late, for Xiu-Xan took a running start, shot out of her apartment window and into the emptiness of rarified air!

Away from the megascraper she fell, stiff currents sending her beyond the automated safety nets which popped out in the event of a fall. The wind tore at her, slapping her violently as she approached terminal velocity-- but she was ready. She was born ready. One tug at her garment and tough fabric wings opened up, connecting her wrists to her ankles with large panels that caught the wind and gave her tight control. Immediately her drop was replaced with a wide, swooping arc, and she was flying!

With the wind no longer deafening her, she said, "Gracie, which way to the Challenge HQ?"

"Left." The computer voice, heard in her brain via bone conduction speakers, sounded pissed.

"Oh, don't be like that, Gracie. You knew I wasn't suicidal."

"That doesn't stop you from being foolish, or just plain wrong. I worry about you, Soupy. Head for that building with the spire."

"Will do." Obediently Xiu-Xan arced left, dipping to gain speed, and shot towards the majestic building a half mile away, her body gracefully tracking the course. Man, she loved this wingsuit!

The building loomed quickly. The flying suit was fantastic for gliding and a user could travel for miles from a thousand-foot cliff... but without brakes or landing gear it was a one way trip if you didn't know the safe way to slow down and land. She did.

For her final approach Xiu-Xan shot towards the ground in a seeming suicide attempt, her arc exceeding the speed of falling. She could now see other Challenge contestants milling about and heading into the building; she changed her vector to fly upwards again and they stared, looking skyward as she shot past them, some involuntarily ducking to avoid the girl hurtling towards them like a fighter jet in a strafing run.

Now she was traveling upwards and slowing quickly. If she had no other plan she would run out of velocity ten stories in the air and plummet to the concrete, a fatal fall for anyone.

But of course Xiu-Xan had a plan-- she'd had the plan from the beginning. Right about the time she stopped falling upwards, she pulled a bolo from her pack, flung it, and caught the Challenge building's tall slender spire. Pulling herself to it, she spun expertly and slid down it like a firepole to the roof. Then she straightened her long black hair, tucked the wings back into their zipped pockets and took the roof stairway down to ground level, where she was met by an applauding crowd of Challenge peers, chattering away noisily.

"Wow!"

"Cool, Xiu!"

"You are one crazy commando, girl!"

"Wooo, Xiu-Xan!"

"Right bloody good, Susan!"

The crowd hushed. Nobody called her that, not without repercussions. She whipped around to face the boy who mispronounced her name, ready to box his ears red... and then stopped, looking up, mouth open.

He... was... a... god! Tall and fit, his azure eyes sparkled against the deep tan of his golden skin, mop of bushy black hair blowing in the breeze. Xiu-Xan was put off balance; her voice caught. Taking a breath, she steeled herself against his perfect white teeth set in an adorable, dimpled smile and said, only a little shakily, "That's not my name."

His smile faded slightly, briefly, but then returned full force. He put out his hand. "Jean-John."

Was he kidding? Xiu-Xan wasn't sure. Could that really be his name, sounding so much like hers? It sounded as though he had a slight accent from somewhere outside of the United States, but still... She decided to take the high road. "Xiu-Xan." She returned his handshake.

"Joo-Jan?" He repeated, inaccurately.

"No."

He tried again."Zoo-Zann?"

This was irritating! She was starting not to care about his intense hotness. "Just call me Soupy, Chin-Chin." She decided to change the subject. "Are you in Challenge today?"

"Yes. I 'ave to start straight away." They turned to enter the building when they saw the crowd moving. "I 'ave the 'ighest score in Freefall, but I'm bettin' you're gonna give me right chase, yeah?"

"I'm guessing you're not from around here. Am I right?"

He grinned. "Right, that. I'm on extended 'oliday from out by Cornswall visit'n me Uncle Jake Reston. 'Ow'dya know?"

"Three reasons. First, you sound like you're from across the pond."

"Aye. That you know."

"Next, you're discussing scores and competition. We don't do that here."

"Yeh don't?"

"We don't. And third, if you had been from here, I would have known."

"'Ow's that?"

"Well, you stick out. You stick out like a part of my latest sculpture." She giggled. "Private joke."

"Right then. By the way, me name's not Chin-Chin. It's Jean-John."

"Ching-Chong?"

"No."

"Shan-Shun?"

"Wee daredevil. Let's get inside, Batgirl." He laughed, casually draping his arm over her shoulders. They walked inside and she peeled his arm away, seemingly annoyed.

An enormous birchwood-floored gymnasium greeted them. A series of challenging physical tests, fifty in all, had been set up and now waited to be used, the polished metal parts glinting malevolently. Each entrant would need to complete all of them in order to finish this section and move on. Leaving one undone meant redoing them all on another day. Xiu-Xan licked her lips-- these were going to be fun!

The moderator spoke, but not through a megaphone-- his voice was heard in each person's head via their bone conduction speakers. "Each of you has been rated on each of these tests before. What is different today is that you will be now performing them consecutively. This will be exhausting; it will be painful. For some of you it will be damaging as well. As always, your score will be based on a formula using your best previous result, your challenge ratio and how many tests you have already completed today. You have five minutes to warm up and stretch out; make good use of the time."

Xiu-Xan was already stretching; she doubled over, twisted herself into a figure eight and then folded herself into a knot until even she didn't know which part belonged where. Jean-John walked over as she did a split, then touched her toes-- together, over her head.

His mouth dropped open. "You're bendier than a plate of spaghetti!" He began stretching nearby. She stole a glance and responded sarcastically, "But you seem to be only as flexible as the plate... what gives? Did you just get out of a year in a body cast?"

"Six months, actually. That's why uncle suggested I join Challenge-- to get back my former flexibility. I still can barely bend at the waist, but you should see my score in the luge!"

Xiu-Xan was mortified that her stinging insult was actually true, and attempted an apology. Red faced she mumbled, "You mean you...? I'm... uh, I didn't... um... er... well." She let out a breath. "I didn't know."

Jean-John burst out laughing. "Sucka! Yeh should see yer face!"

Xiu-Xan balled up a compact fist and drove it into his stomach. "Not funny, Ching-Chang. I'm gonna put you in a body cast!"

"Oh, the cast part is quite true," he chirped, grunting at the mini-blow. "My wingsuit tore on a high-G turn and I fell a hundred meters. I'm only alive because I landed in boggy muck, but I still cracked six vertebra and was immobilized to prevent paralysis. It was the luge part I was joking about."

"Great. Now I feel bad for punching a cripple."

"Don't. This cripple liked it quite well actually." He grinned, then resumed his stiff warmup. "It's why I'm in Aden, y'know. I owe uncle a great debt, since he shipped me here following the accident and set me up in your fantastic 'ospital. Did you know it's the most cutting edge medical center in the world? Believe it! My treatment used wee nanomachines to reattach severed nerves in my spine-- I wouldn't be walking without the little buggers."

"Nanomachines?"

"Smaller than a grain of sand! Under a microscope they resemble metal spiders, and each retractable 'leg' is actually a different tool. Of course, a few of them were actually legs so they could move about, too. Quite fascinating."

"That is! So how long have you been here?"

"Almost six months. Thanks to the nanomachines and RBG I've been up and about for the last four, though it was spent almost entirely in physical rehabilitation."

"RBG? Red Blue Green?"

"Oh! Sorry, Rapid Bone Growth. Another unique medical method that utilizes stem cells in an utterly confusing way. But it enabled me to work my way up from right crawling to competing in Challenge in these scant few weeks. But even so, I was 'oping today would be the Freefall test-- it's all I'm good at, anyway. My scores will rot today on these other trials... what are they called?"

She pointed out a few. "The usual-- uphill swimming, human wheel, handwalk, blind archery, antigrav ballet... oh, there are so many. Oh, and sit-ups... upside down sit-ups. And my favorite-- the backward reverse inside wheel run. I always feel like a supergerbil."

"Right, right. No, I'll definitely be useless today."

"Don't worry how you do in Challenge. For you, just think of it as a fun endurance test. For inhabitants of Aden it's a coming-of-age test, to help us with personal growth to live in in a non-competitive society."

He laughed. "Non competitive! That's a snort-- you're one of the most competitive people I think I've ever met!"

Xiu-Xan blushed. "Yeah. I'm still kinda new around here... I was actually urged to join, to help with that. I used to be much worse."

Jean-John's next comment was silenced by the announcer, who spoke in everyone's head. "Group One, take your positions-- Challenge begins in one minute." The computer then spoke each entrant's position number to them, and the first group filtered onto the court.

"Good luck. Don't hurt yourself. Meet me by the doors after last whistle," Xiu-Xan shouted as she ran to her first test-- the floor/ceiling spin climb-- producing anti-slip powder from her pack and applying it to her hands as she entered the large clear box. Universal handholds protruded from every side, and her job was to complete three 360-degree climbs as the box was pitched about by attached machinery. Jean-John ran over to his own test, called the water tube climb. A long clear tube, five feet in diameter and 30 feet long, was pitched at a 30 degree angle. He had to shimmy up the tube while water poured down on him from above. To add to the difficulty the tube rotated, changed pitch and occasionally jiggled; if he slipped, he would slide back down to the mouth and have to start over.

It was a grueling day, but one Xiu-Xan had been training for and was ready. She spent the five minutes between each test in deep meditation; she had found it was effective at suppressing her fatigue and muscular discomfort, allowing her to start fresh with each test. Jean-John was not so lucky but made each attempt with vigorous determination; spying him from the corner of her eye from time to time she was impressed with his determination, despite his malady. And watching him climb in his skin-tight, soaked-with-water white unitard made it so delicious! He noticed her attention once, smiled and waved; she actually found herself distracted and almost missed a handhold, which would have sent her straight into a pool of chocolaty mud, had she not snagged it with her pinky finger, painfully holding her body weight on the digit until the next handhold. She resolved to ignore him and to get her head back in the competition, but as he was always on the machine in front of hers and in her line of sight that proved to be difficult. But not impossible. One by one the tests fell away with her as victor, besting all her previous times by expected margins; this was her forté after all. In the end she forgot about Jean-John's luscious form and concentrated instead on besting the testing machines.

At last the day was over. The scores were entered into her file and she was given the green light for the next volley of tests-- facing her fears-- which would come up in a few weeks. It would be a tough day, forcing people to confront things they'd rather forget, but was an important part of learning their limitations-- and how to surpass them despite overwhelming odds. And she couldn't wait for that one, either.

Just the way she couldn't wait to see Jean-John. Beaming, Xiu-Xan ran to the front entrance, scouting for her new friend. He was on the grass, laying face down, unmoving. "Hey Jean-John, are you dead?" She straddled him and sat gingerly on his lower back, pushing air out of him most ungraciously. He groaned.

"Wee devil, ya gonna re-break meh spine." The words came out strained as he struggled for air. He twisted his body and dumped her, sacklike, on the grass next to him. "But at least yeh got meh name right this time. So," he continued, forcing himself to sit up, "how'd ya do? I was rot-- cubed."

"Fifty for fifty!" She practically screamed, giggling and clapping her hands. "Do you know what that means?" He opened his mouth but she continued, "That means I'm a definite for jet training! Wheee! I'm gonna fly a jet, I'm gonna fly a jet," she sang, dragging him to his feet and spinning in circles with him. Then she hugged him. He hugged her, looked in her eyes and said softly, "And you'll be the best damn pilot ever, I'm quite sure." Then he kissed her softly, for an infinite moment, caressing her head in his hands. They broke for air, and he whispered, "Wow... you're jolly good at everything, aren't you, Xiu Xan Ximone?" and nuzzled her hair.

Her heart was pounding and she felt short of breath. All she wanted to do was have another kiss with him, him and his gorgeous self. Oh, the way he made her feel! Normally she was fiercely independent but felt safe in his arms, as though she could surrender herself completely and he would be their combined stanchion of strength. She was even considering losing her innocence to him, surprising to her since she hadn't given that particular subject a moment's thought before he happened along. Her life had been all thrills and danger up until now, with no room for romance.

But she noticed something. "You know my name!"

"You've told me your name, love."

"Not my last name." She straightened up and studied his face. He looked guilty.

"Yeh... umm, well... I asked the computer about yeh."

Her face hardened into a tight rock. "The computer won't release information to you without talking to me first... and I think you know that, JayJay." She spat the nickname.

He looked more than uncomfortable... he was downright squeamish. He hedged, " Okay, okay. Umm, it's quite possible that maybe I had my uncle do a little digging for me, him being the founder of Aden and all."

"Your uncle is not the Founder," she said crossly. "He was the money man, the rich guy who the Founder convinced to build Aden." She stepped back and glared at him. "My grandfather is the Founder of the whole concept... of Perfect World Theory. Don't you forget that, and don't go laying credit where it's not due."

Jean-John blushed, sheepish. He looked at the grass and mumbled, "Sorry, Xiu-Xan. I didn't know the specific bits. I only asked about you because, well, I've never felt this way about a girl before." He was contrite, apologetic.

She said seriously, "You think I'm a girl? I thought you asked your uncle about me and knew my secret!"

Jean-John staggered back as though struck by a shovel, lost his footing and fell back on the grass. He rolled over and stared at her, disbelieving. "Blimey-- you're a chap? But you're so beautiful, and sexy and feminine-- I still want yeh, even knowing!" He covered his face. "Does that mean I'm gay? Oh my god, I think I'm gay!"

It was her turn to laugh. "Gotcha!"

His mouth dropped open like a drawbridge, then changed to a weak smile. "I guess yeh did at that, love. Nothing against my own gender, but I've always preferred the lips I kiss belong to a female, yeh?" He stood up, pulled her close and kissed her again.

Time stopped. Sound fell away. Xiu-Xan was immersed in the soft warm delicacy and budding passion stirring in that one sweet touch. Her fingers rode up and inside of his shirt, caressed his firm skin, skin ever so lightly brushed with the softest down. He in turn enveloped her as with a cape, rendering them like invisible amidst the mildly interested crowd.

At last they broke and turned to walk as one, taking a well worn path into a nearby pine grove. The hale wind whispered soft sounds in the branches and sunlight danced a playful moiré on the needle-cushioned ground; the ground where they lay, ignoring the all of everything but each other, and in that they were immersed, brimming. Skin glistened, hair tossed and stray strands of spit spanned lightly between one kiss and the next; their shining muscles tensed and relaxed, ecstasy straddling an agony so divine their backs arched jointly, as a deep and frenzied quaking passed between them, through them, completing them. Collapsed and spent, they could only lay there as the breeze stole their moisture away.

Later (it could have been days) Xiu-Xan opened her eyes; her godlike man remained, chest rising and falling with the breath of sleep. He was tan throughout, a divine creature of love and light and she adored his every line. The sun was low now and it was time to leave; she nudged him gently but he remained asleep, so she tried another approach, using her mouth. He groaned with pleasure and mumbled. "yeh, another go, eh?" but she slapped him smartly on his bare rump and he grunted but remained stiff, much to her amusement.

"I have to go, JJ." Her clothes fell on quickly.

"No! You can't!" he protested, eyes still closed. "I've only just begun with you, love. Whimpers are fine but darling, you deserve an evening of screams."

"A nice sentiment, but unlikely. You know the first time hurts for a girl, right?"

He was wide awake. "First time at what?"

"At what we just did."

"Really? You were a...?"

"What do you expect? I was just fifteen last month."

"NO."

"Yes. Why?"

"Oh meh goodness, girl... I thought you were eighteen at least!" He looked pale.

"You know the challenge is for teens under eighteen-- nobody there was older!"

"Except me, apparently! Oh gosh, I've raped you-- I'm so sorry! Are your prisons as nice as your 'ospitals?"

This was too delicious! Xiu-Xan hid her smile and laid it on thick. "Oh, my! You've taken advantage of me, you big, bad eighteen year old!"

He looked miserable. "I'm not eighteen."

"How old then-- nineteen?"

"No."

"Twenty? Twenty one?""

"I'm so sorry, Xiu-Xan-- I'm twenty- three."

It was her turn to be shocked. "I had sex with someone that old? Gross! Although... you are a bit Adonis-ish. I suppose I don't mind. Okay, let's do it again!" She began to peel down.

"Stop! I simply cannot! It's taking advantage!" He looked about, as if for statutory rape police descending, and backed away from her. Then he stopped, confused. "What? Why are you laughing?"

"Because this is Aden, silly. Things are different here."

"What's different?"

"Well, for one thing, there's no set minimum legal age for anyone's first time. If they feel ready and want to, then it's time. You can't believe the pressure it takes off a person."

He nodded. "Trust me, I can believe.

She continued, "and I'm laughing because I know you're not twenty-three."

"And how do you know that?"

"When you get access to a private file in Aden like you did with mine, the owner of that file gets to look at your private file as well. It's only fair. So I know your real age, mister game player. You may not have done well in today's Challenge, but I think you'll be much better at the Guile test-- it really works the cunning, and you've got it in spades. So don't con me, JJ... I know I'm older than you." She stood back up, bent over and kissed his head. "But only by a month, so I'm not bothered. Especially because I'm gonna kick your butt in simu-skydiving tomorrow."

"Simu-skydiving?"

"Lots of falling... no landing. It's perfect for you. No scary ground to end your trip abruptly." She laughed again. "Can you tell? This is gonna be so much fun!" and dashed off, calling over her shoulder, "Meet me for breakfast-- the computer will tell you where. Bye, JJ!"

He waved weakly. "Buh-bye, triple-X."

It had been a strenuous and incredible day, but she still had untapped energy and released it by bounding up the 130 flights of stairs to her apartment-- well, bounding the first 89 and trudging the rest-- and leaned into her front door until it sprang open, sending her sprawling to the floor, face planting into a pile of her favorite sweaters. She lay there for a moment catching her breath until Gracie said, "Ahem..."

"Wha... what is it... Gracie?" she panted.

"You have company."

Startled, she looked up and saw the legs of a tall cowboy standing right in front of her. A weathered hand extended, grasped hers, helped her up. A deep voice rumbled, "Now what trouble you been getting my brokedown nephew mixed up in, young lady?"

Her breath caught. It was Jake Reston!

Copyright 2009 Bruce Ian Friedman