Sci Fi Fo Fum, here comes the blood of a future man
Writing a short sci fi novella this last month was a pleasure. (Sex: Future Imperfecti). Pure imagination. No research save for the years of reading that no doubt helped to shape it. Twist ending. Voila. Here’s a snippet, taken after a rather visceral opening, an account of a player’s death in a game simulation:
He was recovering fast. As always, he could not recall the mental trauma just before death though he knew it had been intense. Even with players like him the psyche needed careful protection. There were concoctions that could replay it from his memory again but unlike many of his friends he never dwelt on the past, it was the transiency of pain that appealed. “Fantastic!” he laughed. “Phenomenal! Outrageous! Worth a month’s pay.”
“That’s what Mortality costs,” said ABZ-, admiringly. “You certainly know what to spend your allotment on.” They lay side by side on the bed of air in the vaulted chamber, their fashionable loose fitting white bachelor robes floating around them. A-Prime107’s apartment was chic and hi-tech in the extreme. There was not one retro appliance or stick of furniture or soft furnishing anywhere to be seen. He loved the air-press islands that, on his voice-activating command, would provide bodyfit shapes on which he could recline, wherever and whenever he felt like it. He loved the shell’s capacity to become any colour he desired, currently the palest blue, as well as the opaque or transparent modifications that came as basic. At this moment they lay on minutely rippling air which massaged A-Prime’s aching physique. A-Prime tended to have the shell of the chamber on mirror-translucent, maintaining privacy while allowing him to look across the urban wrapping, ninety percent of which was silvered bubble like his own.
“It takes it out of you, doesn’t it?” reflected ABZ-, “The body suffers from the mind’s torture.”
“I’m ok. I got on to level 7.”
“Arghh! That’s no-go! You are a freak. That’s why you have a Prime rating!” ABZ- had never gone further than basic, level 1 on the death programs before feeling sick. Indeed, he was worried that they sent back info to the authorities if anyone got as far as A-Prime was doing. Everyone knew that there were built-in detectors. Every game could be looped back to Central.
It’ll be out in a month or so, when my editor has put down his scalpel, needle and thread.
All my output at: www.chronometerpublications.me