Tales of the Future #1: The Robot and the Hive

by Rudi Dornemann

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.”

Kingdom In The Clouds

by SaraG

From the vantage point on the early rainbow, we saw them coming to the Kingdom-In-The-Clouds. The pirates climbed the cliff silently, hearts warmed with tequila, knives gripped firmly between their teeth.

We didn’t shout for fear of startling them and breaking the silent rhythm of their climb. Instead, we sent the children to greet them with instructions to choose a pirate each, grab him by the hand and take him home. The mothers were waiting in the houses with food on the fire and warm water for baths. The pirates ate hungrily, slobbering juices down their beards, eyes darting up as their mouths worked, all thoughts of violence startled out of them. They were so surprised, they even thanked us for the food.

We were patient with them, patient with their hunger and their need for warmth in the night. And in the morning, we’d completed our spells and took them to work in the fields with our other husbands, to suffer
a slavery without whip, a slavery enforced only by their pitiful devotion to us.

We set some of them free, like we always do. Your people have heard them, drinking their lives away in your taverns. After seeing our Kingdom, after falling in our thrall, how can their lives be happy? So they drink, and you hear them mutter to all who will hear: “There is a country past the Rainbow. It’s hard to reach and hard to conquer, but oh, lucky is the man who lives in the Kingdom-In-The-Clouds.

From the vantage point on the early rainbow, we wait for our new husbands to come to us. We instruct the children, butcher the lambs and warm the water.

We spring our trap.