Shine (8 page)

"So, no. This product isn't sustainable in the current state of the technology.

"However, in the longer term fusion has the potential to end poverty, disease, and the necessity to consume Earth's natural resources. The few surviving post-humans may live in a golden, perfect time. I'm serious." Inácio crossed his arms. "It's your call."

A moment of silence fell between them. The third morning train broke the city's silence, running north, fast and empty.

Cloak asked a final time, slowly. "And what do you think my group should do?"

Inácio paused for a moment, thinking.
That could work. "
Your group should approach Gear5 with an offer they can't refuse. Be aggressive. Gather all the intellectual capital your group has and tell the company it'll be all theirs, but only if Gear5 postpones the product's release. And what's more, make them sign a contract saying that a final version of the technology will only go public when all the drawbacks are overcome. Energy, materials, costs, everything. That way, it becomes not only sustainable, but absolutely desirable."

The kid under the digital cloak nodded and, wrapping up Inácio's report, turned to close the connection. "Thank you, Mr. Lima. It was a pleasure doing business with you." The next moment he was gone.

When Inácio was about to leave, he noticed the hard drive still standing on the parapet, where he forgot it. He walked towards the sea, grabbed the box and returned to the escalator, where Lúcio waited for him.

He wondered what the carbon footprint for love is.

Google.gov pleased to proclaim: ads on cyber cash so successful taxes repealed; find new product placement opportunities on virtual bills!

--Jason Stoddard--

Overhead

Jason Stoddard

I
magine a person who is as helpful as he can be when you've just touched down in his home city, and still apologises for every little thing that goes wrong, even if it is something completely out of his control. Who tries to be the perfect host while the incessant needs of his multimillion dollar company keep calling/SMSing/tweeting/pinging him.

Imagine a person who moves important business meetings around just to pick you up from LAX, who takes you to a fine hotel in Santa Clarita, and then takes your jetlagged body to a fine restaurant while being very patient with your rambling self.

Imagine a person who gladly offers his company to store a huge batch of magazines you hope to sell at WorldCon, who helps you transport them there, all because you've helped publish some of his stories in a magazine that--compared to his day-to-day business--is basically small beans.

Imagine a man who works crazy hours, hires crazy people, and writes crazy stories in the minimal spare time he has. A man who is optimistic against the grain, whose internet advertising company survived the burst of the internet bubble and the credit crisis.

Then you have Jason Stoddard, a kindred spirit if I ever saw one. He's the 'can-do' mentality become flesh, living the dream (even if it means fighting every inch of the way). Here's a man who knows that progress comes four steps forward to three steps back, and at a price. But who, incessantly, believes in the goodness of the human race, who believes in progress, even in a world whose pendulum has swung a bit too far the other way.

A world where the pioneering spirit is just
overhead
.

"C
andy!" Nils Loera said.

"No," his mother told him.

"Yes!" Nils jumped over Ani Loera's shoulders. Another bounce took him to the corridor ceiling, where he swung ahead of her on the exposed steel beams.

Ani shook her head. At 6 years old, Nils had already formulated his most important equation: SHIPMENT = TREAT. Nils was black-haired, blue-eyed, round-faced, and an endless bundle of energy. She couldn't help grinning at him.

I have a kid. On the moon.

And he's cute.

"Candy!" Nils yelled, disappearing down the corridor.

Ani caught up to him at the shaker. Nils bounced up and down in front of the scarred plastic window, frowning.

"Where's the people?" Nils asked.

"What?"

"Nobody there."

Ani squinted through the foggy, scratched plastic. There was only one person in the airlock. His spacesuit bore a faded tag: SHAO. Jun Shao. His silver-visored helmet reflected stark gray walls and her furrowed brow.

Ani ticked an impatient tune on the cold steel walls as the shaker knocked the abrasive moon-dust from Jun's suit. Nils tried to do the same, but his young fingers weren't quite coordinated enough.

Eventually, the airlock door swing open. Jun stepped out, popping his helmet. His expression was blank, unreadable.

"What happened?" Ani asked.

Jun shook his head. "Nothing there."

"Nothing there? What do you mean, nothing there?"

"No shipment."

"No newbies?"

"No people, no parts, no nothing."

Ani felt fear twist her guts. They'd never missed a shipment. Ever. Not for--

Not for 15 years.

Jun shucked his gauntlets and hung them under his name in the rack. He sat down on a bench and began wriggling out of his suit. Nils helped him pull. Jun gave the kid a weak grin and let Nils unlatch his boots.

"Maybe it went off-course."

"Has it ever gone off-course?"

A sudden thought, clear and distinct, as if someone had spoken in her ear:
What if this is the end of the shipments?

Ani paced. "Did you look around?"

"Yes."

"Thoroughly?"

"Peep my stream!" Jun looked up at her. For the first time, she saw his wide eyes. He was terrified, too.

Ani's watchstream buzzed, signaling a direct message. She glanced at it; messages scrolled, as watchers realized something bad was happening. They'd be looking to her for direction.

What a terrible time to be Prime
, she thought. She'd won the lottery last month.

"We have to go back out," she told Jun. "We have to look for the drop. The shipment may have gone off course."

"It's never gone off course--"

"I know. But we have to look."

Jun stopped moving and just looked at her, his face an unreadable mask of exhaustion. Ani wondered how many shifts he'd run in a row. Two? Three? More?

"Put your suit back on," she told Jun.

Nils stopped helping Jun with his suit and looked up at her, frowning.

Ani sighed and addressed the nearest surveillance dot: "Anyone else with outside experience and a suit, come down. We need to make as many tracks as we can."

Slowly, Jun started putting his suit back on.

"No candy?" Nils asked.

Ani forced a smile. "I'll see what I can do."

"You want to sell me insurance?" Thom Lyman said. They were on the tee at the #3 hole of Paradise Springs. Above the rust-colored Arizona hills, the Scottsdale sky was spring-perfect, deep and impossibly blue, with brilliant white streamers of clouds above.

Roy nodded and forced his widest smile. "That's the idea."

Thom paused in mid-swing. "Insurance that'll set us up on the moon in case of catastrophic failure of the Earth's economy?"

Roy Parekh felt himself break into a sweat. "You read it."

"Of course I read it."

"Oh."

"I particularly liked the part about 'an alternate location distribution system with a focus on dramatically new infrastructure and export/import possibilities.'"

"I..."

Thom grinned, creasing his face. He waved Roy up to the tee. "Take your shot."

"Are you--"

"Take it."

Roy went to the tee and looked out over the hole. Perfect green grass stretched in front of him, like an old Windows desktop. Roy's hand trembled slightly as he placed the ball. Golf was a really insanely stupid game. But it was how you closed deals. And he was real good at closing deals.

Until now.

Roy's shot sliced into the rough and bounced into the sand and cactus bordering the course.

"How long have you been out of work?" Thom said.

Roy said nothing for a long time. He thought of throwing his club after the ball. He thought of walking off the course. He thought of the Citicorp work farms.

"Sixteen months," Roy said, after a while.

"Your investments?"

"Nothing left."

"How about Susan?"

"She wanted kids. I can't. She left."

Thom shook his head. "Christ on a barbecue."

Roy just waited. Waited for Thom to ask,
So, you thought I'd fall for it? So, you thought you'd leech off me?

But Thom just sighed and said, "Why didn't you do something important?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were the smart one."

"What?"

"Back in USC. Why didn't you do tech or something?"

"Because--"

Because the needle bounces off the end of the record, thwup, thwup, thwup, fashions and thought and styles recycled on shorter and shorter swings, nothing new, nothing important. Nobody picking up the needle. Hell, nobody looking at the record and thinking
, Time to swap it out for an iPod.

"--because it was too easy at Prudential."

"Until the Rethink screwed you."

Roy blurted a gust of laughter. "Exactly."

Thom went to the cart and put his club away. He looked up at Roy. For a moment his eyes were cold and dead, like a lizard. Then he grinned.

"Okay."

"Okay what?" Roy asked

"Okay. I'll sign it. Google won't miss a few thousand a month. And you need it a lot more than them."

"Really?"

"I can't do it longer than a year."

Roy's legs went rubbery. He leaned heavily on the cart. This was it. This was what he needed. Just one more chance. But. "But... you know it's a scam."

Thom laughed. "Most insurance is."

Ani forced herself to look at the people and smile. Over two hundred of them; ten times the usual number. Their eyes were cold and sharp, like broken glass.

The week since the missed shipment had been hard. She'd had to moderate seventeen trios. Mainly for trivial stuff: breaking a tech module that could easily be replaced, setting the price too high on luxury water, an argument over bonuses for expansion of the farms. Stupid things, easily resolved with a quick look at the historical streams or a glance at the optimal ratios. Stuff that would never go to trio, before.

When will they get together and challenge me?
Ani wondered. It would almost be a relief. Someone else could be Prime, and she wouldn't have to worry about the leadership lottery ever again.

"Opening the 787
^th
Open Meeting for the Community of Hermes, Moon, Ani Loera, Prime," Ani said.

They were murmuring.

"I'd like to open the meeting now," Ani said, raising her voice.

Still murmuring.

"Your Prime says shut the fuck up," Pavig Lok said, loudly. Heads snapped and voices dropped to silence.

Ani looked at him. Pavig gave her a shrug and a frown, as if to say,
Don't thank me.
He was the owner of the cavern; he'd probably been looking forward to selling it to the newbies.

"Good morning, everyone," Ani said. "Floor is open to discuss any items in advance of the special announcement."

"We're all dead!" someone shouted, from the back of the room.

Ani ignored him and waited.

"If there are no other items, I'll move to the announcement. I'll start with my personal statement: We don't know if the lost shipment is a one-time glitch, or if the shipments have ended indefinitely. If the shipments begin next month, there's no cause for alarm."

A doubtful murmur from the crowd.

"Even if the shipments have ended indefinitely, our Primes for Infrastructure, Technology, and Resources say we can maintain and grow Hermes for the foreseeable future. Regolith processing is simple and can be expanded. Our farms are stable and productive, and can also be expanded. Our genetic technology is sufficient; four hundred of us, including myself, have healthy, happy children."

Nils waved from the back of the cavern. Ani waved back. It warmed the crowd somewhat; she saw a few tentative smiles.

"I'll let the functional Primes make their statements," Ani said, nodding at the three people who sat next to her.

Gilbert Corlew, the current head of Resources, nodded and stood up. "What Ani says is technically correct. We have been continually expanding our regolith processing and foundries. I am, however, worried about our human resources. We're operating at the ragged edge. Each person must know three or more technical specialties. Double and triple shifts are the norm. It is difficult to maintain a year-2000 level technological regime with 1300 people, much less year-2040."

"But do we
need
the shipments?" Ani asked.

Gilbert shook his head. "No. We'll just have to continue working. Very, very hard, for a long, long time."

"Infrastructure?" Ani asked.

Marie Middleton shrugged in her grease-stained gray coveralls, but didn't stand up. "We can keep buildin' tunnels and stretchin' wire and putting up dotcams as long as you want."

Jared Gildea, current head of science, stood up and looked out over the crowd, licking his lips nervously.

"I hate to be the downer," he said. "But let me tell you where we have problems. First, without shipments from Earth, we're locked out of biomimetic and thinker-level technologies. The few that have come in the shipments are either not viable or highly unstable. We could end up with a moon carpeted with lush greenery, or we could grow it into a giant solar cell with a tritium laser aimed at Earth."

"Those are thousand-year scenarios," Ani said, over the growing murmur in the room.

"Unless Earth perfects Drexler-level nanomachines," Jared said.

Ani grimaced. "I understand that's highly improbable."

"Given current technology. But Earth is operating twenty to forty years beyond our leading edge, and advancing."

Loud murmurs from the room.

Ani drew in a deep breath. Damn Jared. He'd never learned when to STFU. "And this affects us how?"