NEBULAR Collection 4 - Second Reserve: Episodes 17 - 21 Read online

  Second Reserve

  Nebular Collection 4 (Episodes 17 - 21)

  Written by Thomas Rabenstein

  Issue: 2016-12-23

  URL: www.scifi-world.de

  © 2016 SciFi-World Medien Verlag

  Contributors

  Cover by Arndt Drechsler

  Michael Köckritz – Chief translator and coordinator (English)

  The following team has contributed to this issue:

  Norman Riger, Kevin Breen, Tim Anderson,

  Tom Norris, Elmer Margritz,

  Ben Stegner (Test Reading)

  Preface

  On the 21st of January 2114, a being calling himself a Genorantan Prophet has appeared in the solar system, setting off a storm of speculation and anticipation. The message from the Genorantans is ominous: Chiropter First Class Kuster~Laap has asked Humanity to live up to their destiny as Protectors. Kuster~Laap and the ZyClonians, Naad and Nood, agree to go to Earth for a conference where all is to be resolved. While Maya Ivanova, Lai Pi and the extra-terrestrial visitors are transferring to Earth via a mini tachyon portal, journalist Patricia Lok is doing some special research. The freelancing reporter is investigating the Amish, a religious society that still lives as if they were in the eighteen hundreds. While she makes a strange discovery, Solar Union officials are gathering at a conference …

  17 - The Conference

  Written by Thomas Rabenstein

  Earlier in the month

  The sounds of breaking, rolling waves on a beach whispered that she was waking up near the ocean, but Denver, Colorado wasn’t even close to the sea; on the western edge of the high plains at the foot of the Rocky Mountains, it was about as inland as you could get.

  The house computer must have decided that soothing sea sounds made a fitting backdrop for a wakeup call. Many of the metropolitan cities on Earth had sunk under the oceans, like New York City, where the waters had flooded most of Long Island and submerged almost all of its buildings. New York had lost a lot of its appeal and was now known as New Venice – which city, unfortunately, no longer existed.

  To prevent the sea from taking cities like Hamburg, Stockholm or Amsterdam, huge dykes, levies and retaining walls had been built – to no avail. Nature’s will had proven stronger than man’s …

  A sequence of short signals disturbed the calming backdrop noise, followed by,

  »Wakie, wakie, Patricia! It’s time to get up. Rise and shine, pretty girl … We have January first two-thousand-one-hundred-fourteen. Happy New Year, my precious! According to your schedule, your first appointment is in two hours … «

  Simultaneously, a holo display established and displayed the morning info program, which was currently transmitting a commercial break.

  »… are you exhausted, lack sleep at night and just can’t get going in the mornings? Then it’s high time that you sign up with your healthcare provider’s relaxation tours and spas. Take a break and do what you always wanted to do … go on vacation…!«

  A sneaker flew through the holo display without noticeable effect and landed on the floor.

  »Patricia … get up, please!« the computer repeated a little more loudly.

  A deep sigh came from beneath a pillow, then the blanket was thrown to the side, revealing a naked woman’s body with wild hair. Her blond hair, cut medium-long, covered her face as she tried to push herself up.

  »Way too early …,« she mumbled, and fell back into her pillows. Patricia – Pat to her friends – had come home at 3 o’clock in the morning after a great New Year’s party, still tired and slightly hung over. She turned around in her bed and dug her head deep under the pillow. She didn’t want to get up …

  »Patricia … your appointments …,« the computer reminded her.

  »… shut up!« she interrupted the announcement. »I’ll take out your batteries if you don’t shut up!«

  »That’s not possible, Patricia,« the computer assured her. »My energy supply cannot be interrupted that easily. The fusion cells are an integral part of this building’s foundation and sized according to the expected lifetime of this residential complex.«

  Patricia sighed again.

  »We have January first two-thousand-one-hundred-fourteen. Happy New Year …,« the computer rattled his message down again.

  »… I know! You’re repeating yourself!« Pat replied angrily. »The New Year has begun and the party was way too short. I wasn’t even able to wish every one of my friends a Happy New Year, and I still haven’t met my dream man! Love and happiness instead of stress on the job! Wouldn’t that be a great New Year’s resolution for me?«

  »Certainly,« the computer responded. »Eddie Franks is 32 years old and single. He lives on the 62nd floor. He hasn’t had a female visitor for over 2 months. Would you like me to contact his home computer and leave a message from you?«

  »Don’t you dare!« she replied quickly, muffled by the pillow

  She turned on her back, blew a strand of hair out of her face and looked around, squinting.

  »I’m talking to a damn computer about my nonexistent love life,« she murmured.

  »Sorry, I didn’t understand that. You’ll have to talk a little louder,« the computer advised encouragingly.

  Pat closed her eyes again.

  »Oh … forget it!«

  Somehow finding the energy she threw her legs over the bed’s edge, got up and entered the wet cell. After a long warm shower, she arranged her hair in the mirror and looked at her immaculate body.

  ›Brushed teeth, mouthwash, a bit of make-up, eyelashes, blush. I should apply the new smear-proof lipstick I bought myself for Christmas … uh … what’s that? A hair at the wrong place! Not on Patsy!‹ she thought with pride and pulled an overgrown hair from her right eyebrow.

  »You’re damn beautiful, Pat! So where’s your dream man?« she told herself, and threw a hand kiss at her image.

  »Would you like me to load the psychological advisor program or perhaps the daily affirmation segment?« the computer inquired

  »That’s number 2!« she reminded the computer with a smile. »Like I need professional help …,« she chuckled.

  »Do what you do best and get me my breakfast! Today, I want two eggs over-easy, with two strips of fried bacon, a cup of black coffee and two slices of buttered toast with orange peel marmalade, please!«

  »Would you like natural eggs and bacon or synthetic substitutes?« the computer inquired.

  Pat clapped her hands, looked at the ceiling and then into the camera of the computer interface.

  »Stop teasing me! I’m not Hugh Fosset! Nobody else on Earth can afford real eggs. I’m a hard working woman, but I have to settle for synthetic food!« she scolded. »Don’t screw this up, I can’t afford the real McCoy!«

  »Oh ... you want me to call James McCoy on floor 33? He’s not synthetic – and single too …,« the computer misunderstood.

  » … just get my breakfast!« she interrupted, dragging the holo display along by touching it with her fingertips at the outer edge, then re-anchored it near the breakfast table with a snap of her fingers.

  While she was channel surfing through the holo, the computer prepared her breakfast, evidenced by the noise and delicious odors.

  ›Talk shows, commercials, reports, news, documentaries … music!‹ she sighed. Most of the channels were still preoccupied with reports and comments about the Agitator and the attack on the Union Government Parliament. Almost all the ministers had fallen victim to that audacious terror strike.

  Pat frowned. Only bad news lately, since the appearance of the Globusters. She told herself not to get t
oo concerned; she couldn’t do anything about it anyway. She could, however, try to stay informed by watching different channels and news sources.

  »The Daily Union Mirror, please …,« she requested in a muted voice, directly into the holo. »My Amish byline!« she demanded. The page flashed up seconds later. Fluorescent letters formed the headline of her recent article. LIVING IN A DIFFERENT TIME it read, promising a look into the lives of the Amish people, a God-fearing society that didn’t rely on the high-tech world, preferring to live by age-old rules and communal traditions.

  ›Shit …!‹ she thought, disappointed, as she looked at the reader counter. ›Only a lousy 698,879 requests? They’re more interested in extra-terrestrials these days … Globusters, Progonauts, Shwakans and all the mysterious theories about them seem to be the only things that matter.‹

  Deep in thought, Pat sipped her vitamin drink and looked at the window, which was still in night mode.

  »Window to transparent, please!« she demanded loudly.

  The house computer had only to change the crystal consistency of the window glass with electrostatic impulses.

  The Rocky Mountains towered majestically in the distance. This morning allowed her a clear view at the barely snow covered mountain ranges. Climate changes had altered the appearance of the mountains nearly as drastically as the coasts. A hundred years ago Denver, Colorado would have had its first blizzards by now. Ski tourism was no longer a viable source of income in the winter for this region.

  Several objects flashed toward the sky. Large atmospheric gliders, shuttling workers into Earth orbit from Denver Spaceport. Since the climate change, the wind shear that had caused so many plane crashes in the last century were no more a problem. The wind conditions at Denver Spaceport were perfect

  Most people using the shuttle service worked at the space docks and industrial platforms that orbited the planet. Some of the maintenance crews flew only to the huge geostationary solar power arrays that transferred energy by microwave transmission to reception stations with giant collectors on Earth. The power generation plants were, especially at night, visible from Earth, brighter than the brightest star in the night sky …

  A ringtone told Pat that her breakfast was ready. A small gate rolled open and a tray with her food appeared in the kitchen nook.

  »Breakfast is ready … come and get it!« the service computer announced in a happy tone. »Enjoy your eggs!«

  »Uh … yeah, I really need that!« Pat cried, picked up the tray and sat down again at the table. Breakfast would help her over her hangover and tide her until the afternoon. She didn’t know if she’d have a chance to eat lunch at the Amish village.

  A Hummer H12!

  Proudly, she looked at her vehicle … an ancient Hummer H12. She loved the old-timer. It had come originally with a gasoline guzzling combustion engine. Pat, being technically inclined and able to use tools, had invested a lot of her money and time to keeping this slugger running. She had restored the rare vehicle not only because she liked it, but also to keep her mind from her real job. The all-terrain vehicle was her hobby, disconnecting her from hectic work schedules. Her trade skills let her refurbish the H12 and repair the odd chassis problems. She had learned how to weld, both arc-welding and hot-welding, and it had only taken her about a year until she had finished her project, spending every free minute on it. She had rented an old and run-down body shop where she’d spray painted the H12 cherry-red and replaced the old combustion engine with an electro-dynamic power package and a heavy-duty fusion cell, promising years of maintenance free driving pleasures.

  Her H12 was a real head-turner; people were always looking and smiling when she drove her antique through the streets of Denver. It was a rare novelty!

  Rush-hour traffic, a morass of crawling vehicles on multi-lane Interstate highways, was gone with the 21st century. Even Denver’s city core was no longer a snail’s pace experience. Car exhausts and choking fumes had been eliminated when fuel cells arrived. They’d also liberated consumers from the yoke of the multinational oil corporations who dictated fuel prices on a global scale, even artificially driving the cost for crude oil through the roof, and made the mere cost of living all but intolerably high for everyone. It hadn’t been easy for the industries to convert from fossil fuel based production to environmentally safer and more sustainable ways. The fuel cell revolution, based on cold fusion, halted the wasteful use of oil. Even households could profit from the new technology. Large housing projects were heated by the same geothermal power plants that generated their electrical energy.

  Pat shook her head over the errors of former generations.

  ›Today things are different. Energy is cheap or free.‹

  Since the Solar Union had ruled energy a basic necessity, every citizen was guaranteed an ample supply at next to no charge. 1.5 Union cent per kilowatt-hour was enough to run the energy-making services. Gasoline and diesel were things of the past. Even if someone wanted to use oil for heating or gasoline for fueling an old combustion engine, it was no longer affordable. Crude oil derivatives were used only in medical science and research applications. Strangely, though, coal had made a strong comeback, but not as a heating source or means of energy generation. It had replaced oil in the pharmaceutical and other processing industries, including the production of heavy duty space environment lubricants. Terrestrial technologies had made great leaps without crude oil. Carbon dioxide emissions were collected at the source and hauled into space for dispersal. Nuclear reactors had been shut down and dismantled and the non-recyclable waste sent toward the sun in cheaply constructed containers. This was just the beginning, though. It would take several generations to clean up the planet …

  Patricia walked around her car a couple of times and checked the tire pressure with an antiquated gauge. She smiled, satisfied. Driving the H12 was like driving in a long gone era. That reminded her that she had wanted to refine her research into the Amish community and made an appointment over an old telephone line with one of the people living in a village south of Denver. Telephone services, to the Amish, were a novelty and only one house in the village had one for emergency purposes. She was fascinated with the Amish and wanted to find out as much as she could about these people. Since the Amish used horses and buggies instead of high-tech cars, the roads leading to the village were not in the same shape as the roads in Denver. The H12, an all terrain vehicle, would serve her well.

  ›To me you’re a relic, but for the Amish you’re still a futuristic vehicle,‹ she pondered with a smile. ›Fascinating prospect.‹

  The people she was visiting today still relied on their horses. They belonged to one of the older orders. She knew that there were Amish communities in Pennsylvania who drove cars as well as buggies, as long, of course, as they were not flashy looking, which meant black bodies and no chrome bumpers ...

  She quickly wiped some dust from the cherry-metallic paint, opened the driver’s door and entered her car. She leaned back in her seat and gripped the steering wheel while the garage door slid open. A hand span away on the dashboard was an indentation for her right index finger. She placed her finger in the indentation and activated the fusion cell.

  Since she’d replaced the engine and transmission with an electric motor, she didn’t need to step on the clutch pedal, only select the torque ratio with a stick shift system similar to the old gear lever.

  The H12 slowly began to roll forward with a slight hum. As a journalist she was permitted to drive through the pedestrian areas of downtown Denver as long as she obeyed speed regulations. People going to work or visiting shops and department stores looked at the H12. Most of them had never seen such a vehicle in their lives and stopped, gawking.

  Pat drove under the elevated magnetic train tracks that lifted 20 meters overhead, leaving ample space to maneuver her H12. She enjoyed the looks on the pedestrians. It made her feel … unique.

  Magnetic trains zoomed above her head. They could reach speeds up to 300 kilometers an hour
on their super-conductor tracks and high efficiency magnetic coils. The city of Denver had spared no expense developing a wide network of elevated tracks to service the city core and the urban centers. The Denver metropolitan area was an average sized city with 7 million people. It was still called the mile high city, even though most people outside of Denver didn’t know what a mile was. Pat considered Denver as one of the most beautiful cities in the Canton North America, eclipsed only by Canton Canada’s even more modern cities. Pat had spent hours rifling through the archives and decided that the “new” Denver was far more attractive than what had been a hundred years ago. Wide congested highways had made space for parks and meadows. High office towers had been replaced by efficient skyscrapers, whose upper levels were literally above the clouds. Almost all of Denver could be reached by public transportation. The magnetic train system was ecologically neutral, very efficient and automated. A visitor to the city had only to enter his destination and the trains, sometimes ten-seater cabins depending on the route, would stop there or as close as possible. Sophisticated neuronal computer systems even enabled riders to call a single magnetic rail cab on demand for an extra fee.

  While public transportation was mainly on the surface, commercial traffic had been relocated to underground distribution networks that tied into the continental underground traffic system and even far into the oceans, supplying the underwater cities with goods and merchandise. Endless-seeming container trains were directed to subterranean depots and distribution centers.

  The Denver of 2114 had transformed into a city of family dwellings and residential towers, designed to provide whatever the heart desired. There was ample room for libraries, universities, public parks and people with extraordinary tastes like Patricia.

  Forty years ago, the Solar Union had decided to establish most industrial sectors in space, minimizing the impact on Earth’s ecosystems. It was just a matter of time until all industries were banned from Earth. New national forests and protected areas had been declared and wasteful depletion of Earth’s natural resources was strictly forbidden. Ninety percent of the power generated to maintain the lifestyles and technologies on Earth came from orbital power plants.