Archive for the ‘Series’ Category
Tales of the Future #1: The Robot and the Hive
Monday, November 26th, 2007
There was a robot who lived on the edge of a forest that covered what had once been an industrial park. The robot farmed histo-adaptive replacement organs – kidneys and livers mostly, spleens every once in a while. The business didn’t make much money, but it kept the robot in power and spare parts. Monitoring all the chemical and temperature variables suited the robot’s temperament, and, in the evenings, the woods were peaceful.
In the next sector, there lived a clone hive. There were dozens of them, all the same, and they worked day and night at three or four different businesses at the same time – light assembly, personalized cake decoration, transcription, bonded courier services, and more. Like most hives, they weren’t good at everything, but once they found what they were good at, they kept doing at it, and soon they did it very well. They multiplied and reinvested, and within a few years, they owned everything for three sectors around.
They sent the buyout offer via their own courier, and a second clone went along because that was protocol in any business situation, since the sight of a second identical person waiting in the car reinforced the idea that the whole hive was behind the message.
The psychology was wasted on the robot, but the letter was logically set out in a numbered table format that it found easy to process. He particularly admired the paragraph that talked about how an organization that followed an exponential-growth economic model could coexist with boutique enterprises founded on a stasis-capitalist model.
The courier said he could wait a few minutes for an answer, or he could return at another, more convenient time.
“Is your car networked?” asked the robot.
“Certainly,” said the clone. “We can transmit your answer to our legal staff in moments.”
The robot stood in its doorway. A bird chirped in the woods; another answered. Several moments passed.
“It’s a good price,” said the courier. “What do you think? What’s your answer?”
“I do not need an answer,” said the robot. “I have used your vehicle to speak to the others of my model. We all have a little savings that we can pool.”
“We can outbid any counter-offer,” said the clone in the car.
“You misunderstand,” said the robot. “We have bought your hive, all its assets, everything.”
The clones’ car chimed that a message was waiting for them.
“Now,” said the robot. “The spleen tank needs cleaning, it is a lovely evening, and I am going for a walk. You’ll find brushes and scrapers on the workbench.”
Cinderella and Prince Charming Have a Post-Divorce Meeting to Discuss Some Financial Matters
Monday, November 19th, 2007
“A dwarf, Charming!” Cinderella said. “Seriously, a dwarf. Why? Is this some kind of bizarre plea for attention?”
“Cindy, I thought you of all people would understand. We’re in love. What other justification do we need?”
“If you remember, we were in love once,” Cinderella said. “And look how that turned out.” She had planned not to drink anything, to keep the meeting as short and businesslike as possible, but now she poured herself some sangria out of the carafe after all and drank a long swallow from it, not looking at Charming the whole time.
“Well,” said Charming, and with the warmth he put into that one word it was as though he had said Well, and even though it didn’t last forever, our love was amazing while it lasted, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. To give the devil his due, he could be very charming.
“I admit,” Charming said, “I wouldn’t have looked for a dwarfess if I hadn’t literally stumbled on Gloina. But she’s so constant, and she practically glows with happiness the whole time we’re together … and the sex! My God, the things that little woman can do! Have you ever been with a dwarf?”
“I think you’re confusing me with that whore Snow White.”
“Not that again. Why do people keep repeating that rumor?”
“Oh come on, you’re a man. You should get it.”
Charming pushed his glass aside and leaned toward Cinderella across the glass surface of the table. “We don’t have to argue. We’re not married any more! What about you? I heard you’re seeing someone. Tell me about him.”
“What, Hansel?” He’s a woodcutter, she could have told him. He lives in the forest in a small cottage with his sister, Gretl, and her husband and three happy but really filthy children.
Charming was looking at her, waiting.
“He’s in forest products,” she said finally.
“Nobility?”
“Nearly,” she said. And then she didn’t say: And he smells like ginger and cloves, and sometimes when I’m with him I forget who I am. Last week I cleaned his house from top to bottom, and the forest creatures actually turned out to help me.
“All right,” said Charming, as though she had asked him for something.
And as they turned to the papers they had to go over, Cinderella found herself wondering if she could cast off the princess she’d become like the old skin of an insect, and if so, what might climb out into the sunlight.