Archive for the ‘Sara Genge’ Category
Listen To The Hum
Monday, December 10th, 2007
Limp scratched at a fleabite and watched the skid approach. New Brain Malaria had given him his name and left him with little control over his facial muscles so that, even in the noon heat, he drooled precious moisture.
For a second, he hoped the skid wasn’t in-city and that he could kill the driver and keep the spoils for himself, but the glint of nanobots told him otherwise. Chief would be angry if he wasn’t offered this prize.
Yet, Limp hesitated. The Hum threatened against harming this stranger. He was caught between angering the Hum, the voice of the Gods, and Chief.
“They live under the orb that protects them from UV radiation,” he told the Hum. “Their crops have water, their children have medicine. Why should I risk my life for one of them?”
The Hum responded by dumping a barrage of information into Limp’s brain. They tabulated the geopolitical importance of the stranger and showed Limp decision algorithms, courses of action, predictions of market response and civil unrest. Limp didn’t understand any of it. That’s the way it was with the Hum, too little information or too much and no sense to any of it. He was the only person he knew who heard the Hum, but at times like this, listening to a jumbled mess, he wished the mysterious Hum would learn to use some grammar.
“They have everything and we have nothing,” he thought.
He swung from side to side, the signal to the Chief, and he felt the skin of his back tickle as the men took their positions, sitting discreetly at the only cafe of the shantytown, gambling with lamb bones on the dirt, peeing against the lone tree.
The Hum told him exactly where every one of them was. He felt his skin react to each one of the men in a different way. The trap was sprung, the visitor was as good as dead.
As the skid approached, he saw the driver’s pink eyes and wished he could undo his betrayal. The Hum would never forgive him for killing their protege.
But what was done, was done. He stayed in the same spot, muttering to himself, playing the part of malaria victim. If he did his job well, maybe Chief would let him keep some of the nano, something that would help Limp understand the Hum a little better.
End
For another story set in the same future, check out “Godtouched”
Embalmer
Tuesday, November 27th, 2007
Butler scampered through the brush, zigzagging to avoid the slingshots. A sharp pebble nicked his ear and blood trickled down his neck. A mistake? He didn’t think so.
The villagers were getting nervous. He knew he shouldn’t count on the hour that the law gave an embalmer to escape before he could be hunted down. The corpse had been a young girl’s–emotions were running high. They’d begun play-shooting with their slings only seconds after he’d been paid. He suspected they’d unholster their lasguns soon.
He hid behind a tree and peered out. He hoped the pay was enough to make this worthwhile. He hadn’t had time to check the purse before they’d started to shoot.
It was bad luck to cheat an embalmer and the family was usually generous. Why else would anyone risk their lives to embalm a corpse?
The next stone nipped the bark. No use avoiding the slings when the lasguns were due. He swore and tore off in a straight line. The money bag swung against his chest.
There!, the river. He dove in without thinking and let the current take him through the rapids, away from the villagers and their lasguns.
He was dumped unceremoniously into the Triptican lake. It took him a second to realize that he had surfaced. He was breathing. Lying on his back, he pedaled towards the shore.
Butler opened the pouch. Instead of money, he found a stone. It was round. Tendrils of gold were set into the carvings. He read the history of a family, in the stone. On the side, filigree letters spoke an ode to the death of the only daughter.
He laughed madly. The old man had placed his family-stone in the purse. He had to be mad! This stone represented the old man’s family honour. Butler could use it to get money for credit and the stone
would testify for his honesty.
He stopped laughing abruptly, and felt a pang of guilt. It was too much. The law required fair compensation, but not this. For a second, he thought of giving it back. But the lasguns would be legal now. He got up, dusted the stone reverently with his hand and went home.
End