Spoil And Leak

Story day is here! But first I just want to talk about the inspiration behind this story. It’s quite simple really. This story was written because of all the leaks that now occur. In this case I’m referring mainly to the games industry, but it applies to media across the board. Anyway, hope you enjoy Spoil And Leak!

Edward Phelps, referred to as Ted by everyone that knows and works with him, and Preston Isaacs have been working on a new software application that they think will revolutionise the use of physical input devices, namely by removing them entirely. It’s an ambitious claim but one that they believe is entirely fair to make. That’s why the pair of veteran Albion Industries software developers have requested a meeting with the five heads of their corner of the vast multi-national corporation that has offices on every continent.

The project, which at this time is nameless, originally began as an idea the two colleagues and friends started exploring during their off hours nearly two years ago. But after getting as far as they could go without more allocated time they took the concept to their supervisor, Allan. The young line manager of the two older men loved the concept and allocated them to work on it, much to the pair’s relief. That had been months ago and now they can scarcely believe that the day is here for them to demonstrate what they have to their bosses, including head of Tomorrow’s Software Today division, Rupert Santos.

The name of the division isn’t a name that either Ted or Preston would have adopted if it had been their calls, but then they don’t come from a marketing background. And seeing as market research had determined, through the use of questionnaires, that the software development division sounds friendlier with the title it has now adopted, who are they to argue? Apparently, marketing were worried before the rebranding that the development arm of Albion sounded more like it was focused on military grade software as it was adorned with the moniker, Alpha Dev Group, or ADG for short.

Still, none of that matters right now as Ted paces backward and forward in the corridor which he and Preston are the only occupants of. Preston has elected to stay seated on the lightly padded metal frame bench seats, the legs of which are bolted to the concrete floor that is below his feet.

Both men are dressed in grey suits which neither feels comfortable in. That is part of the reason Ted is pacing nervously even though he is sure the app they’ve developed will be a sure fire hit. However, he knows that just because he believes that it doesn’t mean that he and Preston, mid and early thirties respectively, won’t have to convince the five heads of its brilliance. They will and that is why he is pacing. Ted hates presentation, but still he runs through what he and his friend have planned for the demonstration. He just hopes the five realise that kinks and issues are a high probability when they show what they’ve been working on. In some respects he wishes Allan could be here too, but the man, though having put his head on the chopping block to allow them valuable time and resources to work on this, didn’t want to be seen as trying to steal any of the thunder that is clearly this duos. Ted respects his younger supervisor for that as he takes a quick glimpse at the analogue face of a watch that had once belonged to his grandfather. Ted had received it when the elderly man had died. That had been when Ted was maybe eleven. The loss had hit the boy hard. But he was happy to have something to remember his grandfather by and plans, at some point, to pass the watch on to his son or grandson. The only problem is that like Preston, Ted is single. The pair have both spent the last nine and eleven years respectively putting all their effort into working at Albion. That’s how Ted has gone from an intern to his current position of senior software developer. It’s a position that the skinny, black haired man with dark brown eyes is proud of.

“Come on Ted stop for a few. You’ll wear yourself out otherwise.” Preston urges him with a concerned tone of voice as he watches Ted pace up and down a four metre stretch of the corridor.

“I can’t. I’ve got too much nervous energy to sit still.” Ted replies as he lets out a sudden long breath, all while continuing to pace.

“We’re going to be OK Ted. You know that right?” Preston assures, and for the first time since they arrived in the corridor of the forty fifth floor of the Albion Industries building which they work in, Ted stops. He stares at his slightly younger friend who physically looks nothing like Ted. Where Ted is skinny Preston is toned and muscular. Not overly so, but what Ted would describe as just the right amount. Anymore and Preston would start to look muscle-bound and resemble a weightlifter. He knows that is not what Preston is going for, which is why he never tries to put any more muscle on than he currently has.

Preston runs his right hand through his brown hair, which is long on the top but short at the sides. Again, nothing like Ted whose own hair is short all over due to the fact that if he allows it to grow out then he will simply be left with tight curls, and Ted hates his hair in tight curls. It’s why he refuses to let his hair grow out. Many have asked the question but for some reason they don’t seem to quite believe when he says that the curls don’t suit him. But it’s true; curls do not suit his face at all. They make him look like a mop and he has proof of that as that is exactly how he looks on his yearbook. That’s why he’s buried it deep in the mountain of boxes that fill his apartment. He never has visitors and if he did they’d likely ask when he moved in. His answer would have to be years and years ago, and yes it really is that bad. The space, which is small and comprising of just four rooms, if you can call a corridor that connects the other areas together a room, serves a purpose as a place to sleep but little else.

On the other hand Preston’s apartment is large, spacious and devoid of stacked half opened boxes. That is where Ted spends much of his off time, especially since they began working on what they will be showing today. The app which can be installed on embedded smartphones will use the links between the temple mounted interface, which is connected to an earpiece, and the optic link that permits the eyes to be used like the lens of a camera. That in turn will allow for electrical impulses and thought processes to be captured and transferred into words thus eliminating the need for eye tracking or older physical, and far more accurate, inputs that are also a lot more common.

Still, they should be called into the meeting room in just a few minutes time. Not that such a realisation is doing anything to calm Preston’s nerves. Though, he may not appear as on edge as his partner, he is. That is why his left leg is furiously tapping the heel on his brown leather boot against the carpet covered floor. Hot flushes wash over him in waves, threatening to make him pass out. He knows he won’t but still just the threat is enough to concern him. It’s been a very long time since he’s felt like this and he had hoped that with age the intensity of such feelings would diminish. They haven’t and Preston is disheartened to have learned that as his eyes dart away from surveying his pacing friend and colleague and instead gaze around at the motivational posters set into silver metal frames that are hanging from the walls in front and behind him. The posters are staggered and their pattern only broken where the half dozen doorways have been cut into the otherwise unbroken cream coloured walls. But Preston doesn’t read the posters, he has no interest in the marketing department approved quotes, most of which he would roll his eyes at if he did read. Instead, Preston looks to the floor and studies the carpet a few metres further down the corridor, away from the lifts and emergency stairwells that sit at the centre of each floor of this hundred and thirty six storey edifice of steel and glass.

Preston and Ted work on the fifteenth floor in a large open plan space that is crammed full of desks that butt up against one another. Thankfully Preston has Ted as a desk mate and he counts himself lucky for that. Many on their floor haven’t been so lucky and have been seated with people they have real issues with, rightly or not. Preston thinks Allan might have had a hand in the pair’s placement however and if he ever gets evidence that proves it he’ll thank his supervisor profusely.

“Phelps and Isaacs.” A soft female voice says before poking her thin face around the edge of the doorway.

“Y-yes that’s us.” Ted blurts sounding more nervous than he would like to.

“We’ll be ready in two, gentlemen.” The young woman in a trouser suit says before flashing a brief smile and then disappearing back into the meeting room, closing the door as she withdraws.

Preston looks at Ted who looks back at Preston and simply blinks several times. Preston shrugs after a few seconds and then he himself blinks several times. At least Ted doesn’t return to pacing as the brief exchange has left him immobilised. Preston hopes his friend isn’t in a state of shock or panic. If he is Preston has no idea what they’re going to do. This meeting has taken weeks to first organise and then set a date for. If they blow this, well Preston doubts they’d get another shot, but it would take perhaps weeks or even months before every schedule would align and another shot at it could be taken, if permitted.

It’s a long time since anyone called me by my surname, Preston soon thinks. He doesn’t know if he should take that as a good sign or a bad one. It could be taken either way. Perhaps the five have only agreed to this meeting simply to refuse. But why would they do that? Preston hasn’t got a clue but still for some reason it makes some sense, he doesn’t understand how but a portion of his brain has decided it does. Preston lets out a deep breath and then rolls his head, his neck cracks almost silently and then as if on cue he hears the meeting room door open again. He hadn’t heard the low rush of air before but he has this time. His head jolts up faster than he anticipated and briefly leaves him feeling dizzy, but the dizziness only lasts a couple seconds. Again the young trouser suit wearing woman is in the doorway. Except this time the door to the space is fully open and she is wearing a full smile, instead of just the brief one she’d demonstrated previously. Preston looks to Ted who is already looking his way and upon seeing Preston’s eyes on him motions with his own eyes that they make their entrance. Neither are confident public speakers or presentation givers and that is part of the reason they work as developers. Still, if they wish to get their idea off the ground proper, and within a reasonable amount of time, then they will have to bite the bullet. Preston knows that for a fact as he rises from the badly padded seat, his legs stiff, and follows the young woman through into the meeting room with Ted a step and a half behind him.

The meeting room space is a lot narrower than Ted would have expected but about as long as he presumed it would be based on the location of the next door on this side of the corridor. The entire long wall opposite the doorway is from floor to false ceiling glass panes tinted a slight shade of green to stop the glare of the sun. In Ted’s experience the film applied to the glass doesn’t really work but seeing as he and Preston face the windows on their floor it isn’t an issue that can hamper their working conditions. At the centre of the space is an equally long and narrow wooden topped table lined on all sides by comfortable looking leather cushioned seats. Ted can barely believe that this is what the higher-ups are provided, but it doesn’t surprise Preston who once dated a fellow Albion employee who worked as a PA on the fiftieth floor. He’d visited her from time to time and on those visits become privy to the sort of comforts that higher levels of the corporation are afforded.

At the far end of the table are the five heads of the development department including the young woman who called them in and Rupert Santos himself who is clad in an expensive and shiny navy blue suit, no tie and an ambivalent expression on his face. The head of the software department is in his late forties, a twenty year veteran of Albion, and has short blonde hair and brown eyes. He isn’t looking at the two men. Instead, he is looking through them, and that makes Ted and Preston both feel uncomfortable. Preston is sure that is the point but still he feels the need to introduce himself. As even if they know who is before them, they don’t know which of them is which. It doesn’t enter his head, like it does Ted’s, that they may not actually care.

“Morning ladies and gentlemen. I’m Preston Isaacs.” Preston says by way of introduction before motioning to the nervous looking man at his side and says, “This is Edward Phelps. And we’re here today to show you an exciting new piece of software that we think will revolutionise physical inputs for tech.”

Preston has noticed just how terrified Ted looks with his wide eyed stare that makes him look as though he is a deer caught in headlights. But there’s nothing he can do about it.

“Wonderful, now can we get on with the presentation. And preferably before your colleague, Mr Phelps, passes out.” Rupert Santos remarks still without a hint of an expression on his face.

Preston is stymied. He’d expected there to be a reciprocal introduction by the five they are being faced with and not the dry remark he got from Rupert. In fact, the only person he knows by name is Rupert Santos, though he does recognise one of the two young for their position men present. Preston thinks he might be a member of the Albion family, but he can’t be sure. The corporation isn’t owned by the family which it shares its name with, however, they still hold a large collection of public traded shares. If Preston remembers correctly the family shares account for eight percent, but he could be wrong. He isn’t into stocks and shares but he is usually good at remembering numbers. However, right now he doesn’t feel like he is as he begins to question why he and Ted volunteered to put themselves through this. He knows the answer but still maybe they should have got a confident speaker to deliver this presentation and not try to take the burden on themselves. Allan would have been a good fit but he’d declined and Preston is now starting to understand why. This group are terrifying. Then he realises that’s he’s probably been silent too long and that makes him panic. He tries to recall what he had planned to say, but he can’t. So it is just as well that at that moment Ted finds his voice.

“Of course. We don’t wish to waste your time. We know how busy the five of you are.” Ted sounds almost, bar the cadence of his voice, like a completely different man. If Preston didn’t know better he’d swear that it isn’t his friend and fellow developer speaking now.

“We’re here to show you a form of input for embedded smartphones that will remove the need for a physical input method.” Ted continues sounding confident now, though he still looks uneasy as his eyes dart across the blank faces staring back at him. He feels hot under the collar and wishes he wasn’t wearing a tie, but he can’t let those he’s presenting to know that. It’s bad enough that they could clearly read the panic on his face before he’d started speaking. Truth be told, he doesn’t know where his sudden confidence has come from, but it’s just as well it did as, surprisingly, Preston fumbled. Ted knows his friend had expected Rupert Santos and his fellow department heads to reciprocate Preston’s own introduction, but they hadn’t and it had thrown the man for a loop. Ted isn’t going to question where his sudden bravado is stemming from. That he can reserve for later when this ordeal, which really is an ordeal in his eyes, is over.

“This is achieved through the use of the embedded smartphones optical link, predominantly present to allow users to capture images with their eyes. In our app we can track those same electrical pulses and use the signals from the brain as an input.” Ted explains with a calm and even tone.

“We even have a demonstration video for you to watch.” Preston then adds remembering his cue from the countless run-throughs of the presentation they had planned out. He still isn’t happy that he froze on the spot but there’s nothing he can do about it now. He just has to move on and hope that his silence and the previously terrified look on Ted’s face haven’t blown this opportunity for them. He can’t tell whether it has or not as Rupert Santos and the others are still stone faced. It makes him wonder if the look is a corporate pre-requisite before you can take such a role or whether it’s learned. Preston figures it would be the latter, but for what reason he doesn’t know. Maybe it’s a hope, because if it’s not then he has no similarities with these people. Such a thing isn’t outside the realm of possibility though and he knows that.

“Is there no way we can test the product?” The young woman in the grey trouser suit asks. Her face for the first time since the pair entered having briefly furrowed into a frown as she asked her question.

“Not really.” Ted admits honestly before Preston interjects, “Thus far the app has only been tested on our own embeds. So there is a very high likelihood, that without doing a compatibility test, it would simply not work.”

“Pity.” The trouser suited woman then adds. Her face expressionless again as she speaks.

Preston wonders if it was a simple slip, a break in the façade, but he’ll never know and that bothers him a little for some reason.

“Continue.” Rupert then says with a simple wave of his hand.

Ted doesn’t know if he should take the wave as a simple gesture to continue as the man has said or as the head of their division having grown tired of this display and simply wanting it to be over with. He hopes it isn’t the latter. If it is then it means the executive will likely dismiss their idea and have them reassigned to one of the other countless projects currently in development on the dev floors of this building. Ted doubts Rupert would have he or Preston reassigned to another office, but in truth the man has more than enough power within the corporation to achieve such a thing.

Preston not wanting to delay remotely feeds the screen at other end of the long meeting room the video. The screen is woven into the wall at the opposite end of the space to the gathered five, which comprises of nothing else but the screen, springs into life. The video shaky and pixelated at first, but after a few seconds the artificating disappears and the video from here on out runs like a dream. The quality is still lower then Preston would have liked but Ted had assured him it would be good enough. Preston isn’t sure now that it is, but knows it will have to do. Still the five members of the software division show no hint of interest or dissatisfaction as they watch the two minute long video. But from the look on Ted’s face, which Preston catches a glimpse of, the fives lack of response is starting to irk his friend and colleague. Preston understands Ted’s ire entirely but there is nothing that can be done about it as the video shows clips of test runs of the app using seemingly nothing to write not just short simple messages but also entire paragraphs and monologues. Not a single word can be heard from the video during its playback, which is proof that no transcribing software is running, and in addition there are no physical input devices present. That is not to say that the video shows utter success as the footage is raw and has not been cut to remove the spelling and grammatical errors that are transcribed from Preston or Ted’s electrical signals as they will the words into being.

Then with the video over the two men simply stand with baited breath waiting for a response. Their eyes are now the ones judging Rupert and his fellow managerial minions. However, Preston doubts they could care less about any judgment the pair might be casting in their directions.

Finally Rupert Santos speaks, “What’s the apps accuracy rate right now?”

“Seventy three percent.” Ted answers with little delay. He knows that if he takes too long or short to answer then the upper echelon that are in front of him will doubt his words. Still, he makes sure that his tone is even and confident, even while he is sweating buckets below the layers of his suit. The man just happy that perspiration isn’t pouring out of his head as if it was it would give his discomfort away.

“The accuracy would need to be improved.” The young male of the five which Preston thinks is a member of the Albion family declares. His words result in several audible sounds of approval but no change in expression from any of the five.

“How long have you been working on this?” The young woman in the trouser suit then asks.

“Two years, maybe.” Preston answers now sounding less sure than Ted had. Though in truth neither of them recorded the exact date at which they first devised the idea.

“Impressive.” Rupert remarks with a blink. It’s the only physical indication that the middle-aged man has given during the pair’s presence, but Ted concludes that he’ll take it. He’s sure that it’s a good sign, but doesn’t know why.

“How long do you estimate it would take to complete?” Another of the five, a man, asks from behind his thin rimmed golden glasses which are balanced on the lower third of his stubby nose.

“It would take the two of us eleven months, we think.” Preston says feeling unsure now that the estimation he and Ted decided upon was the correct one. He pushed for it but Ted hadn’t been sure. Now Preston is inclined to agree with his friend as the ten eyes stare at him. He shifts uncomfortably but refuses to avert his gaze. He wants to, but he believes it might be the worst thing he could do right now.

“You misunderstand.” Rupert says with a chuckle before adding, “We meant if you had an entire team.”

“Uh…Um…” Is all Preston manages in response. He’s lost for words. Does that mean they like it? He doesn’t know but that is sure what it sounds like. They’re offering a team! He must be dreaming. This can’t be real, he is sure of it. There is no way Rupert Santos, head of the stupid corporate name the software development division has been given, would be willing to supply them with a team of people. That just doesn’t happen. Preston had thought they’d get a greenlight, but a team!

Rupert and the four others chuckle seemingly amused by Preston’s stumbling and failure to provide an answer, which is better than Ted who is stood mouth agape in shock, blinking slowly in disbelief.

“Ca-can I consult with my colleague for a minute?” Preston manages after he doesn’t know how long of a pause. His guess would be that he was silent for at least a full three minutes. He hopes it wasn’t, but it seems quite possible.

“Of course.” Rupert answers with a smile.

The grin slightly unnerves Preston who thinks the expression has more akin to a sharp getting ready to strike out on its unsuspecting prey than anything else.

Preston however, ignores his feelings as he turns to see the gaping maw of Ted. He manages to suppress a laugh at the sight of his gawping friend, who he grabs the upper forearm of and spins round. As soon as he does Ted snaps out of his apparent trance, much to the relief of Preston.

“What do you think, honestly?” Preston questions while his eyes flit between Ted and a space a metre ahead of him.

“I-I don’t know. Maybe half that. Six months.” Ted replies before performing a long and obvious shrug.

“What do you think?” Ted then asks after a few seconds of silence. He feels guilty for the lack of certainty in his response but is genuinely curious what Preston’s take is.

“Same as you, so do we go for six?” Preston replies blurting his words out rapidly as he too had decided on apparently the same amount of time as his fellow co-creator.

“I think we do.” Ted nods moments before Preston’s mouth morphs into a wide smile, while Ted simply smirks. It’s rare for Ted to actually smile Preston knows, so a smirk is usually about as good as anyone can ever hope for.

The pair turn back. Neither of their faces are adorned with looks of panic or shock and they don’t feel lost for words now either. Instead, they mirror the five faces before them and wear no expressions at all. Inside however, both are smiling as widely as is humanly possible.

“Your answer?” Rupert asks with genuine interest and a raised eyebrow.

“Six months. We think we can, with a team, have the app complete by then.” Preston replies with his arms folded across his chest. He doesn’t know he’s doing it and if he did would almost certainly chastise himself for the action. Thankfully, Rupert and the other four couldn’t care less about the display. They are only interested in the product the two men have pitched them. It’s a product that, surprisingly as they have claimed, could revolutionise input methods. And Albion Industries would be the sole provider of this software product once it goes to market.

“Congratulations gentlemen. Project approved.” Rupert says as a beaming smile tears across his rounded face, even as he asks, “Does the app have a name yet?”

“No.” Ted admits bluntly, which draws a look of daggers from Preston due to the bluntness of the reply. The look only lasts a few moments however and is soon forgotten by both men.

“Have marketing work on that.” Rupert says with a wave of his hand. The response to his order and wave is the bespectacled man quickly touching the embed input on his temple to make a note of the demand using the multi-directional button that covers much of the small squares surface area.

“Now gentlemen, take the rest of the day off. You’ve earned it. And tomorrow be sure to be here bright and early because we have plenty of work to do and little time to do it in.” Rupert says by way of concluding the meeting as he stands, does a small bow and then, with the other four in tow, departs the meeting room leaving Ted and Preston behind.

At first the two men do nothing as they continue to stand in exact same positions they had when they’d delivered the six month response to Rupert’s question. That’s because Ted and Preston are waiting and listening to make sure the footsteps are far enough away. Once they are both sure the sounds are at a sufficient distance the pair explode into raucous cries of joy that sees them jumping up and down on the spot turning in circles with their arms above their heads in celebration.

Pages: 1 2 3 4

Blurb: Spoil And Leak

The blurb has returned again! As usual the story will release tomorrow (and it’s a little under 8400 words). Not much else to say, so here’s the blurb for Spoil And Leak.

A pair of software developers angry when they find out their bosses have taken credit for their latest idea, and all the work they’ve put into it, decide to spoil the announcement of this next big product.
If only they hadn’t gone further and instead had stopped at simply spoiling this single event.

Corrupted

Resigned to the darkness that you love to loathe
Maybe a gun will offer you the choice you crave
Polyester hearts that beat like a worn drum
With tattoos that mark you out as the endless scum
Whispering notes from your own rotten core
You’ve become the hell you swore you’d ignore
As the apples turn to blackened ash
You’re still trying to buy your passage with cash
Swearing that far below you are still the same
While trying to trick others into your game
Blackened eyes that swallow all hope
Who will be the next poor victim that you choke
Fractured face of corrupted misery
You swear you are not the true heresy
But we know the real face that you try to hide
It all stems from the demon that you hold inside
Charred flesh that you mask with powder
Reality is you can’t hide that your sour
Betrayed by your own desire for lust
Nothing will change your loathing of love

Little Time

Ever stop and look at the world?
Or do you just keep moving forward?
Cause one day your young and then your not
Blink too much and it’ll be spent
Eighteen to thirty in a minute

Life is short
So open your arms
Time is fleeting
Enjoy your living

Ever forget the age you are?
Or have you micromanaged this far?
Cause thats just not having a life
Mirrors are a reminder of that
Minutes left before time is out

Life is short
So open your arms
Time is fleeting
Enjoy your living

Ever wondered where you’ll land?
Or if you’ll even succeed?
Do something that makes you pleased
We’ll stop focusing on achieve
Before you’re ninety three

Life is short
So open your arms
Time is fleeting
Enjoy your living

Ever decided to just live your life?
Maybe you should try it for once
Stop focusing on how others do
Spend the time on you
Then contentment will flow

Celestial Annihilation

Wednesday story day. Hi everyone! Back again with another short story. Though this is less a story and more the unfolding of an event. It’s a shorter story (about 4100 words) but I think it turned out well. It’s something I wanted to do for a while, but it took me a bit to work out and reach a point that I was happy with the idea. But that’s enough waffling from me, so let’s begin!

“Conner, come on we only have ten minutes.” Silas says from within the safety of his viewing platform which itself is enveloped by a Rosenbaum Distortion Bubble, or RDB for short. The RDB will not only aid in the protection of Silas and the viewing platform, upon which he is settled, as it sits out beyond the limits of the star system, but will also allow for the time between events to be greatly truncated down to mere minutes. Without the presence of the RDB the event would last for millions of years and though Silas would be able to survive that without any real issue, he would rather not sit idly by trying to fill countless eons until the next phase of the helium flash occurs.

“I know full well how long we have Silas. Perhaps even better than you do, seeing as my internal timer is allowing me to keep track of the time down to the most precise of decimal places.” Conner, an AI, says from inside Silas’ head. The two have known one another for an almost inconceivably long period of time. One which Silas, though completely able to comprehend, has to admit is far greater than those of the generation before his own, who would have found it unfathomable to think about. But that had been a very different time and in that very different time people had been born, grown old and eventually died. Death had been as sure as birth. That now, however, was no longer the case. Humanity had grown far beyond the frail and temporary forms from which they had been born into. Many had been terrified by the prospect of leaving their bodies, their birth forms, behind when the transition had first been conceived into being. Silas can’t remember the names of those responsible for the construct network universe of digitally manufactured bliss that is now known as Elysium. Nevertheless, he still thinks about those men and women every day that he rises, as without their daring plunges into science humanity would almost have certainly died out several billion years ago. Not in as wondrous fashion as what he and Conner will experience here, though he doubts his species would have been willing to admit that back in the days when he had still been flesh and bone.

“How I share this head with you I will never know.” Silas retorts with a chuckle as he fidgets trying to get a more comfortable position in preparation of what he will witness. His remark is in jest and that is exactly how Conner will take it, of that he can be sure.

He is one of a few million others doing the same as he, watching this event occur in real, if not heavily truncated, time. The rest of the three septillion members of the human race will simply watch it as and when they please, if they please at all. Many of the newer generations, from the last several hundred million years, aren’t particularly interested in the fate of this system, as they have no connection to it. But for men and women like Silas this system is where it all began. Without it humanity would not be the immortal universe spanning civilization that they are today. For this is the system that was once known as Sol. And Silas can still remember when it held that name, but now it is generally referred to as the cradle system. Silas has never been sure whether he likes the name or not. It’s original moniker while basic and lacking any real imagination still seems to suit it best. But he’s long since concluded that cradle is a fitting enough title for it to be given as well.

“Usually you don’t. When we are in Elysium we both…” Conner begins sounding far more artificial than is the norm for the hyper advanced and incredibly old AI that he is.

“I was joking Conner.” Silas replies, having cut the AI off from his ramblings, before erupting into a hearty laugh.

Anyone else might think that Conner is malfunctioning or that some corruption due to his age is occurring. But Silas knows better. Conner is simply busily checking the platform systems as well as those of the RDB that will permit them to be a witness for this most grand of occasions.

The AI always sounds far less real when he is deep in calculation checks and diagnosis scrubbings. Silas understands why and is thankful that the AI is here with him. Not just so that the AI can almost assure that no harm or error can occur that might annihilate this form that is not the one he was born with, but also for the company. Being an old human, by the standards of those from generations where Elysium and later developments were present from birth, he still feels a need to witness the world beyond the limitless confines of Elysium. Many would think that because Elysium is limitless then to say that it has confines would be a contradiction, but for Silas sometimes things have to be limited for them to be experienced. This, the death of the cradle system, is one of those times. Though, the whole system will not be consumed by the helium flash of the star that humanity still refers to as the sun. Today, as viewed from the perspective of those within the RDB like Silas and Conner, will only see the loss of the planets Mercury, Venus, Earth and Mars, in that order. The latter had not originally been expected to be consumed by the transition of the sun into a red giant but according to calculations that seems an almost guaranteed prospect now.

Silas wonders how the scientists of Earth, abandoned nearly five billion years ago due to the advancing years of the sun and it’s increased luminosity, would perceive being told they were wrong by an AI. Some would likely scoff and dismiss it, many would have countless questions for the AI, a few would call it heretic and even fewer would revere it like a god. All of those prospects bring a smile to Silas’ face, the face that isn’t really his. He doesn’t remember his birth face or how he had looked before he joined Elysium. When he’d had his consciousness uploaded to the enormous network, but he knows it was very different to the face he has right now. His current face and body were sculpted and manufactured to his specifications in preparation for this very moment. The realisation makes him chuckle as he settles. Finally having found comfort on the wide black silicate chair that has been formed from the platform by the wishes of his mind. He would explain how but truth be told he does not really know. Conner would but he sees little point in asking as any explanation the AI would give would almost certainly leave him confused after the first few sentences. The AI excels at many things but breaking them down into a form that Silas can understand is not one of them.

“Systems and diagnostics are showing well within acceptable tolerances.” Conner than declares putting an emphasis on well before returning to join Silas in a sharing of the ‘mans’ senses.

Silas has no qualms about the act seeing as Conner is as alive as he. But that had not always been the opinion of humanity. AI had come long before Elysium and wars had been fought over the dominion and control of the intelligences that mankind had pioneered. It had been one of the bloodiest periods of human history and that was saying a lot, Silas knew. But that was all in the past. Humanity had survived as had the AI and together both had thrived. Humanity even reached the point that made it barely distinguishable from the very constructed intelligences that it had forged so many thousands of lifetimes before and warred with. If not for the losses it would have been humorous, but not funny. War can never be funny. It can only be tragic, barbaric and stem from a lack of understanding or perspective. However, perspective is something humanity no longer struggles with, which it shouldn’t after the billions of years that it has had to grow, learn and evolve.

Still none of that could prepare Silas or Conner for the beauty of what they were gazing at beyond the platforms viewshield, the Sun. It burns brighter now than it has ever done so before in all its long and illustrious life. A life that will soon, from the perspective of Silas and Conner at least, see the star transition from the star it was into something quite different, a red giant. Still, its luminosity is enough right now to blind even from the distance that the pair, within a single form, are viewing it as they sit well past the historically defined edge of the cradle system.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Conner asks within Silas’ head.

The man simply nods the head of the body his consciousness is currently occupying. Though, Silas has to admit that the body is not comfortable for him, at least not yet. He has only occupied its mass for hours and has not yet got used to the idea of not being to conjure what he wishes as he wishes it. A strange sensation to be missing if considered that he was once skin and bone, but one he feels, nonetheless, as he stares out ready for the event to soon begin. He, like Conner, knows how long is left before the show will start, as there is a countdown timer in the top left of his vision that keeps him readily informed.

Right now however, Silas can’t help but consider how alien he looks, or at least would to a human of the third millennia according to the old Anno Domini calendar, from which he is descended. His eyes are yellow with flecks of grey that dance and circle like search lights on a sulphur lake. His ‘skin’, which is in fact a silicate compound, is tinted blue and is as smooth like porcelain and that helps to add to the definition of his chiselled cheek bones, wide sculpted jaw, proud jutting chin and thin delicate nose. Many of the aspects of the face hide whether its owner is male or female, but certain characteristics hint toward the former Silas himself thinks. Though his lips are pale and his teeth are an ivory white colour that are a clear and stark contrast to his thick black as night hair, which is swept back across his scalp. The sides of his head are shaved short enough that the stubble is still black, though the blue tint of the skin of his body can be glimpsed through it.

“If only there were more grandiose words, but yes. Yes it is Conner.” Silas remarks as he blinks the thin eyelids of this body which is of his design. It’s a lithe muscular body that is wrapped in a simple suit, black in colour, with a grey shirt beneath the fastened buttons of the blazer and a thin red tie. It isn’t the fashion of this era of mankind, but Silas believed it appropriate attire for today. For this event, this spectacle, and at that moment he flicks his vision to the timer and sees that the expansion is about to begin. He banishes the timer, deciding that he is comfortable enough in the silicate chair that he willed into being as he fixes these eyes, unblinking now, on the view of the inner half of the cradle system.

As if by thought alone, however he knows it is being done by Conner in reality, the view through the viewshield magnifies a few hundred times until Mercury looms large. Silas thinks it so close that it is almost as though he could reach out and touch it. He can’t and he knows that, but still that is how it seems to him as the helium flash begins. Huge coils, almost like tendrils, lance forth and seemingly caress Mercury whose surface boils and incinerates under the immense temperatures that scorch it and turn it molten. The planet’s surface suddenly appears exactly like the metal which also possesses its name, a metal that was used in barometers of the twentieth century. But in the blink of an eye the sphere of grey is swallowed as the ballooning sun expands outward claiming it.

Silas has no idea what is happening the diminutive planet within the mass of helium and energy but he can imagine that it is literally being torn asunder. Huge cracks ripping across its surface as the pressure the ball of rock is put under becomes unbearable for its now softened shell to withstand until finally it shatters like glass. The shreds of what had once been a planet ripped apart atom by atom removing any hint that it ever existed. It is both depressing and exhilarating at once, he feels.

“Marvellous.” Conner exclaims with wonder in his tone. Its wonder that Silas shares as the ballooning sun quickly accelerates toward Venus forcing Conner to pull back the zoom magnification so that he and Silas will miss nothing of this event. It isn’t an event that can be called once in a lifetime, as the limit to both Silas and Conner’s lives are infinite, and this is not the first or the last time something on this scale or magnitude will occur. Though, it is the only system that holds a lasting interest and historical significance for both the AI and human species.

Conner doesn’t know if he should consider either a species anymore as the changes both have undergone have taken them far beyond the limits of what once would have been perceived to be possible. Still, he knows of no other fitting description for he and Silas as they reside within the same form. In truth, both are more similar than they are different. Neither possess physical forms as a norm, both are devoid of disease and have no requirements for sustenance or air. So perhaps they should be perceived as a single race, but they are not. It does not bother Conner. He came after the human-AI wars. However, he knows that Silas predates them. He also knows that the human once had a very different name, but not one he is privy too. He wonders if Silas still knows the name he was bestowed at birth, or whether that was one of many things lost to time. Maybe it was best that way but Conner would never be able to be sure. Something told him it was and he, unlike humans when they had been able to decay, took comfort in that feeling.

“I can feel goose bumps all over this body.” Silas says as ‘his’ eyes go wider. If he were still biological it would cause him discomfort, but thankfully he is not. Then the expanding star reaches for Venus. Its atmosphere predominantly made up of carbon dioxide flashes into fire before the tendrils of searing heat reach it. In an instant the whole atmosphere is a brilliant blaze of red and orange that burns brightly, almost brighter than that of the sun itself. Then the brilliant blaze diminishes as the expanding sun grabs hold of the side nearest the star. Venus seems to physically buckle and contort as though the pull of it is morphing the planet into a cone shape. Then the atmosphere bursts with what Silas could imagine would be an enormous pop. The concussive waves caused by the pop rippling outward from its origin point, caught by the viewshield, as well as the scanners and sensors that are recording and broadcasting the data simultaneously. But Venus’ time has come as the sun engulfs the remains of the planet, its actual rocky surface, which appears as though it tries to fight back as it re-emerges from the consuming ‘fire’ of the transitioning star. However, its apparent defiance lasts only mere seconds as it is enveloped once more and never seen again. Silas again imagines the true death of the planet and envisions it to be much like that of Mercury’s, except perhaps with a little more resilience.

Silas goes to speak, to say something, but he can’t. He is simply lost for words. The death of Venus, like Mercury, had been beautiful, though at the same time it served as a reminder that his own world would be next. It was the world he was born on. The one he still called home. Few of the seemingly endless number of the human race could say that. Not that being able to put Silas at an advantage in Elysium, as it didn’t. There were no advantages now. Everyone was equal whether they be human or AI, born on Earth or one of its countless, and now long since abandoned, colony worlds. It had been a proud moment when Silas realised he could honestly say that, as that had been the moment that money, war, disease and suffering all became a thing of the past.

Regret hangs in Silas’ stomach, or at least the feeling does, in the moments before he swallows hard and waits for Earth to be next. He is sure his homeworld will be the most spectacular of all the planet deaths, though Earth has been dead for a very very long while. The increased luminosity of the sun had brought an end to much of the life on Earth billions of years ago. That had saddened him to learn as he had been too lost in his creations in Elysium to have viewed it with his own eyes. But at least he would get to see the end to Earth, the real and final end and then just like that Earth’s atmosphere ignites. A rainbow of coloured fire fills him with terror and wonder all at once. It is already the single most beautiful moment that he has ever witnessed in his life.

“My…” Is all Conner manages mirroring Silas’ own amazement as the expanding sun proper actually lances three spears of angled ‘fire’, like a swipe of claws. The incendiary ‘claws’ rip through the blazing multi-coloured atmosphere which pops. Silas is sure he hears the booming sound of the atmosphere being broken, but he can’t imagine how that can be possible from this distance and with the RDB shielding the flat eight by eleven metres plate which he is residing upon. Still, he sees no reason to sully the moment as the deep gashes in the Earth’s crust continue to run across the side furthest from the sun’s rays. Silas able to make out what had once been the Far East in the moments before the sun appears to take another swipe at the Earth. This swipe sees the planet explode into a hail of shrapnel. Much of the shrapnel flung wide and with colourful trails as it is sent out toward the edges of the solar system, and beyond. However, the bulk of the rock that had been Earth is engulfed by the Sun, exploding violently for a while before it ultimately succumbs to the fatal wounds that it has been dealt and finally dies as it is de-atomised.

Silas feels a great well of pain inside him but also at the same time more pride than he ever thought possible. And it all stems from seeing Earth vanquished. The planet had endured countless thousands of wars, some of which should have spelt disaster, as well as climate and pollution issues. Somehow though, it had weathered it all and survived until the end it was always supposed to meet came for it. And the planet, the birth world of the human race, had faced its demise like only it ever could have, with defiance and bravery.

Silas is sure that is why he feels pride and why he is nodding silently, not really to himself as Conner also occupies the same space, but as close as that possibly is for him right now. He knows he will review the vid-runs of this moment a thousand times a ‘day’ for the rest of his existence without ever getting sick of it. In fact, he may even construct a dioramic replica of this entire affair in celebration and remembrance so as to never forget. Not that he would ever be able to forget this, even if it were possible, which it is not.

Still, it strikes Silas that the loss of Mars, the second world colonised by humanity, will never be able to meet the gravitas of the Earth’s conclusion. That in turn makes him wonder whether he should simply end his viewing of this transition now, but quickly decides that doing so would be like leaving before the encore is over and he would not abide that. Silas will stay until the end, the very end. The point at which the inner half of the planets of the solar system are gone, which will mark the Sun having achieved its destiny of becoming a red giant. That is why he came here, so that is what he will do and as if on cue the expanding sun lurches for Mars. It’s like the star knows that it is at the finish line, a finish line that has been appointed to it by the universe itself. And so it plans on making the final moments the best they can be.

The converted atmosphere of Mars flares, not as brilliantly as Earth’s as it lacks many of the colours that burn across its surface, but still the sight is second only to the origin of humanity. However, its atmosphere burst is far more violent and actually results in deep gashes tearing across its surface seconds before huge chunks of the planet begin to drift away. If Silas didn’t know better he’d assume that the planet is a collection of living beings trying to make a break for safety, too late. But they aren’t. Mars is simply rock, thick rock that is rapidly wrenched back toward the annihilating energy that is the transitioning sun. Each piece yanked deep below the expanding horizon of the star, a few columns of flare belching outward as though Mars has physically been eaten by the Sun. And in some respects that is exactly what has happened.

And then it is over. The sun stops. It expands no more and instead simply sits there blazing brilliantly and defiantly staking claim and victory over the solar system which it birthed long before anything still living dared to raise its head in curiosity. And Silas, along with Conner, both feel drained. Neither expected the viewing of this event would leave them feeling so drained, emotionally, but it has and the body they both occupy has slumped, eyes still unblinking, as they watch the sun in its new red giant form.

“Will we stay for its white dwarf transformation?” Conner asks after a while and with more than an ounce of hope in his voice. In fact, the AI sounds a little like an excited child eager to witness a new and fascinating sight.

“We will. But first we should stretch our legs.” Silas replies.

“You know that isn’t necessary, right?” Conner queries in response.

“I do. But some old habits die hard.”

“Very well.” Conner utters after a pause before adding, “It will give us a window for thought. And there is a great amount to ponder during that window.”

With that the body shared that is Silas’ current form, which also has Conner within it, rises to first stretch its muscles and then begins to pace around the edge of the rectangular platform drinking in the view of the solar system around them. A smile sits plastered across the face of the figure that stands seven feet in all, its black leather replicated shoes clacking softly as each step is taken. While inside Conner runs through the mountains of data like a child might frolic in the sun. But Silas simply replays the sights he has seen in his mind and wonders what will be next for Elysium and those that occupy it.

An enormously long life is assured but where will the future take them. Before long he decides that it doesn’t matter, he will be there to see it. Everyone will. For that is how existence works for humanity and the AI, that are equals.

Utopia

Crossing the great stretch of sea
To the place I always want to be
Meadows of green and waters so pure
Where land is never in decay
A garden of Eden filled with life
Songs of hope do resonate
Canvas of perfection that does thrive
A place where only sun does shine
Violence and storms are a myth
Its a realm of brilliance
With pearly gates towering high
There is never a goodbye
Food in constant supply
Where ale does flow all the time
Parties are scripture
Smiles are money
Suffering is lost just like winter
Upon sandy beaches and golden shores
This paradise you can adore
Seek it fast and seek it soon
Bliss will bring you everything
Now walk this place unendingly

Beast Within

The beast under the stairs
The rage you feel that takes you there
You swore, to have destroyed it
But that was just another lie
While thinking, you’d avoid it
Though reality knew better there

The beast under the stairs
The rage you feel that takes you there
With a catch within your throat
Another name of someone you did choke
As the hate, boils inside
The monster won’t give up this ride

The beast under the stairs
The rage you feel that takes you there
A ryhme that you once spoke
But still can’t remember any note
As you, did declare
You crave the pain of despair

The beast under the stairs
The rage you feel that takes you there
As you snap one more time
The monster comes to commit the crime
As you, watch in fear
Remember that you brought in here

The beast under the stairs
The rage you feel that takes you there

Ill-Gotten Gains

Here it is everyone, my newest short story. It’s a little under 11000 words. Enjoy!

Karim has already stepped off the sky shuttle, which is what passes for a taxi on Orion IV, that has ferried him from the planets main port, Marrec Port, where his starship, Eternal Veil, is docked. He is headed for a meeting at the private residence of Ferris Long, crime boss and defacto ruler of the planet. It isn’t the first time that Karim will be visiting the criminal overlord of the corporation abandoned frontier human colony in his private residence. Residence is an understatement Karim thinks as he strolls down the wide cobbled pathway toward the extravagant glass and polycrete angular shape that serves as Ferris’ home. The polycrete is grey, a lighter shade than would be found on many human colonised worlds due to the presence of salt that is used in the production of the substance here. Karim knows nothing about building so has no idea if the presence of salt in the mix gives any particular benefits or drawbacks and he doesn’t really care. Karim is a smuggler after all and all he cares about is cargo, destination and most of all pay. Not in that order.

Nevertheless he can’t stop himself from gazing at the wide assortment of exotic and colourful blooming flowers that line either side of the wide snaking path. Karim has no idea why the bleached cobble blocks under his feet are set in a snaking pattern but the lack of necessity of the paths winding fits in perfectly with the abode that it belongs to, as well as the man that ordered it constructed. Karim doesn’t like Ferris, no one likes Ferris truth be told, but Karim doesn’t like anyone else for that matter either. He’s a loner and that is why being a smuggler suits him so perfectly. Except on the rare occasions that his cargo are people needing transport ad who are trying to escape some past foul-up or other. Karim never asks questions. He doesn’t need to. Not on runs like those.

Still he keeps a watchful eye on the small army of goons that Ferris has stationed at regular intervals as he gradually meanders left and right. If this was his own estate the pathway would be straight, no nonsense, but while he doesn’t agree with it he understands why Ferris has had it laid out this way. The entire route is supposed to show the beauty and expense of Ferris and how he has absolute power over this planet and the people that call it home.

Karim wonders what it would have been like if the Belwell Corporation had remained here. He knows there wouldn’t have been anything like this estate if they had. Corporation bigwigs never take residence on frontier worlds. Most of the upper echelons of the corporations never even visit them in person. That is what middle management are for, in their minds. Still Karim would have loved to have seen what they would have done to the over sodium infused soil and its pink tinged waters. The answer is they would have likely used their bio-engineering departments to drastically alter and remove traits in the environment which they would have deemed troublesome. It’s what the corporations have done on many other of the frontier and primary worlds in human space. But Belwell had abandoned Orion IV long before any possibility of that had ever had the chance to enter their corporate heads. Not because Orion IV has any severe issues or failed as a colony. No, instead they left because of financial issues after the discovery of false and creative accounting dating back nearly a century. That had forced them to restructure so they didn’t slip into bankruptcy and one of the casualties of that process had been Orion IV.

Karim doesn’t know why the planet was then left to the mercy of a man like Ferris Long, or why it wasn’t claimed by another competing corporation, but that was more than twenty years ago and didn’t much matter now. Ferris is definitely in-charge, not that the United Star Systems Allegiance, or USSA for short, agree with it. Though neither did they disagree with it enough to forcibly remove Ferris. That did surprise Karim. The USSA, or as people in the frontier often refer to them, the Allegiance, seldom resist interference whether it’s wanted, needed or not.

At least, Karim notes, he is nearly at the massive angular house that serves as Ferris’ sole residence now. He doesn’t know how much land this estate of Ferris’ has, but he can take an educated guess seeing as it is nearly two hours by sky shuttle from Marrec that it’s of a more than decent size. Meaning that it is larger than a sole person needs but not as large as a man who ruled a small planet of less than a million souls could have gifted himself. And yes this estate was very much a gift. Ferris never paid a dime for it.

However, Karim soon realises that he has never met Ferris anywhere on the estate except inside the massive house. It isn’t his taste, but then he doubts many people have taste like Ferris Long. The inside is gaudy with gold everywhere. In fact, the only thing about the structure Karim likes is the view from its seven metre high glass south facing wall that looks out over rolling hills of colourful flowers and the pink ocean waters. To him the seas of Orion IV look more like candyfloss than water, but he knows better than to go swimming in them as there are countless predatory species that lurk in the darkness ready to strike and easily capable of conquering even the toughest of humans. At least, that is what he’s been told. He doesn’t know for certain and quite frankly doesn’t have the time or wish to find out.

He doesn’t know why Ferris has demanded an audience but he can guess that it relates to some form of payback for Ferris having given Karim shelter after the failed Perrin Run. Karim can imagine the demands that the crime boss will make.

Karim Bensho reaches the vertical slab of light grey, almost cream, coloured polycrete that reaches up toward the green sky above him. He resists the urge to follow the seemingly single unbroken slab upwards. The smuggler knows there’s a camera, or six, affixed and pointed in his direction. Karim doesn’t know why Ferris needs so many cameras when he has an army for protection, but guesses that the prolonged period of rule over the planet has led Ferris to adopt a policy of forced paranoia. He knows the criminal doesn’t suffer actual paranoia as he is too sure, arrogant and brazen for that to be the case. Nevertheless Karim is left standing on the spot in front of the almost black double doors fashioned from some kind of Orion IV native wood for a few minutes until they finally part to reveal the spacious entry space. It’s square in nature and decorated with gold encrusted picture frames of the building’s owner throughout his earlier years.

Karim pays no attention to the decoration which physically makes him feel sick due to its gaudy and exploitative cost as he is guided across the entrance space, down a narrow hallway, which you would expect to be wider for the size of the property, and then finally into a study come pool area. Karim shakes his head slightly appalled by what Ferris believes is good taste as scantily clad women, who have been surgically altered both facially and physically to fit Ferris’ idea of beauty, writhe about entertaining the man who is sat behind a gunmetal grey desk licking his lips.

Karim rolls his eyes at the sight of the diminutive five foot seven inch man with a long pointed nose and sharp chin. His small beady recessed eyes like those of a rodent, except hazel in colour, engrossed by the sight of the, likely more attractive before Ferris had got his tendrils on them, women moving about one another suggestively. His thinning blonde hair flapping about giving an indication of just how bald the criminal is going as a wide yet thin smile sits carved across his overly pale face. Karim has no idea how Ferris can be so pale if he spends much of his time here in the semi-open to the world outside space that they are all currently in. Still Karim stands there silent, though the look on his face is that he is clearly unimpressed by what he in bearing witness to. He knows that will grate with Ferris, but the smuggler doesn’t care. Time is money and whatever time Ferris is wasting it is purely on purpose, as the smuggler has seen those small weasely eyes flit toward him more than once already.

Even Ferris’ hired goons seem unimpressed by the display that has likely been arranged just to waste Karim’s time and make him wait, even though Ferris has called him here and if he did the same could expect to be forced to reimburse the crime boss for such actions.

Finally Ferris snaps his fingers which the pair of women take as the order to leave that it is meant to be. That means they know what would happen if they dared to continue, or even attempted to utter a word in protest. Karim doesn’t want to know how Ferris has achieved such things, though he has heard rumours and none of them are pretty. In fact, they’re fairly barbaric and would be considered, especially in primary systems, as worthy of life in prison.

“Ah Kay.” Ferris Long beams as he turns to Karim, who he insists on calling Kay. He’s the only one who does and Karim hates him for it. Kay isn’t his name. It isn’t even a version of his name. The criminal overlord of Orion IV simply uses a single letter of the smugglers name and extends it. Still, Karim refuses to let it show that it bothers him.

“Ferris.” Karim replies dryly as Ferris sips from a martini glass that has a strong smell emanating from the purple coloured liquid which is frothing about as Ferris moves.

Several drops of the viscous liquid spurt over the rim of the martini glass staining the floral open shirt that is barely covering Ferris’ torso. It isn’t a pretty sight, Karim thinks as he stares the man in the face, ignoring his somehow rotund belly. The smuggler concluding, and not for the first time, that Ferris’ head and body shape do not fit together. Instead, they somehow look as though they should belong to two separate people. But for as long as Karim can remember that is how Ferris had looked and he’d known the man since he’d been a boy. Though, the smuggler prefers not to relive those days as he waits for the crime boss to continue speaking.

“Good to have you back where you belong, Kay.” Ferris says before turning to some of his closest goons and adding, “Best smuggler there is, you know.”

Karim knows the weasel of a man is trying to butter him up, which makes it even more obvious, somehow, that he wants something. Its how these exchanges always start and Karim finds them boring. He prefers when people get to the point, especially Ferris. The ruler of Orion IV knows that, which is why he refuses to do it. It’s another exercise in power and a display of who holds it on this world.

“I remember when I first met Kay here.” Ferris then announces about to go on a trip down memory lane. Karim narrowly managing to avoid rolling his eyes as Ferris continues.

“Little orphan of seven, I think. Daring enough to try and pick my pocket he was so hungry.” Ferris remarks before erupting into laughter. No one else joins in. Karim had no intention of and the hired goons know better than to. Though they keep their eyes fixed on Karim, who is armed. In fact, everyone is armed, except perhaps Ferris. Karim can’t be sure other than to say that the crime boss isn’t physically carrying. But he expects there is a gun somewhere on the other side of that desk. Likely it’s pointed at Karim. Not because there is anything personal between Ferris and he, but purely because Ferris doesn’t trust anyone enough not to have a weapon of his own pointed at whoever he is talking to.

Maybe he is that paranoid then, Karim thinks as he waits for Ferris to continue.

“I always liked that about you Kay. That’s why I took you in. Gave you a roof over your head. Put you through flight school. And look at you now, a smuggler. Got your own ship. Do your own runs. Look at how far you’ve come. And it all started with me.” Ferris says before shaking his head with pride. But the pride isn’t for Karim’s achievements, no, instead they’re for Ferris’ own. The man really believes that he is the reason Karim has managed to forge a life of his own. In Ferris’ head it is not because Karim showed a natural aptitude for space flight and navigation. Anyone else would protest at Ferris’ words but Karim knows there’s no point, so he simply stands there his arms hanging at his sides, relaxed.

“Can we get to the point Ferris?” Karim asks after a period of silence. He knows better than to interrupt the overlord who to this day he still isn’t sure how to describe the position of. Sure Ferris is a crime boss, a criminal, but he’s also an overlord, a dictator, a tyrant. However, Ferris has no actual title. It surprises Karim that he’s never insisted on one. If he had it would have been in-keeping with the man’s personality, but somehow Ferris had managed to resist that particular urge.

“Always right to the point Kay. I like that.” Ferris remarks with a rapid up and down shaking motion of his hand while his index finger is outstretched. Getting the old saying wrong likely on purpose, though Karim had never ascertained if that is true or not.

“Truth is, I have a job for you.”

Karim again resists the urge to roll his eyes because that couldn’t be more obvious of a statement seeing as the only reason he’d call the smuggler here is because he has a job for him.

“Ok, what’s the job and the pay?” Karim asks as he stands casually in front of Ferris dressed in black leather boots, plain black trousers, a thin white shirt devoid of a collar over which sits a black giblet vest. A holster hangs off the smugglers left hip and is occupied by a Burnblaster that the fingers of his left hand loom over near permanently.

Ferris smiles at the man who is a good four inches taller than himself. The crime boos is biding his time before he answers. He enjoys making people wait for him, but if they ever try and repay the favour he will make them pay for it with coin or blood. Most of the time its coin but every now and then a down on their luck fool will come by and that is when Ferris gets a few extra kicks. He still prefers the coin to the blood, but he has an appearance to keep up, so he puts on a show that makes it seem like blood is his favourite. It’s helped him maintain his reputation of being someone you should never fuck with. But Karim knows him better than most. That’s why the smuggler never plays his games. If it were anyone else it would sadden and perhaps even anger Ferris, but Karim, or Kay as he calls him just to get under his skin, is an exception. Ferris enjoys the dance they do each time they meet. He’s sure one day he’ll get the better of the smuggler and he yearns for that day because when it comes the payback will be glorious. Of that there will be no doubt.

“Nothing much. Simple little job. Any two bit space hopper could do it. But the pay is zero. I’ll cover your costs only. Nothing else.” Ferris admits finally having built up the silence to an almost deafening volume.

“Not my run then. I don’t do pro-bono work, you know that Ferris.” Karim replies bluntly but with a smile. He knows this is part of the game, but he isn’t willing to back down no matter who he is faced with. However, he did feel the goons present all wince as he delivered his response.

“Good joke. I like it.” Ferris offers in return before adding, “Kay’s always been a funny guy.”

Then Ferris’ face turns dark in the seconds before he spits, “You think you have a choice?”

Ferris is pointing at Karim now and his eyes are blazing angrily. Still Karim keeps his cool. He’s seen Ferris angry before and it doesn’t scare him. He’s dealt with worse during his years of smuggling cargo throughout every human system. Truth be told Ferris isn’t anywhere near as dangerous as he likes to make it seem as though he is. Sure, he’s a violent man, but Karim knows that a lot of that is an act. Ferris prefers intimidation and only ever resorts to violence if no other option presents itself, or if he has an audience. His goons don’t count as an audience. They don’t rate high enough on Ferris’ radar that he feels they need to be shown displays of power.

“You fucked up! The Perrin Run should have been an easy in and out. But no. You go running right into an Allegiance destroyer! Are they not fucking big enough…” Ferris gestures size with his hands as he rants angrily, “…for you to see them!”

“What can I say; they were waiting for me when I dropped out of slip.” Karim fires back with a solemn yet casual shrug.

“Bullshit!” Ferris spits angrily in response. But a glint in the weasely looking mans eyes makes Karim think that the crime boss knows what the smuggler is saying is true.

It isn’t the first time that Karim has wondered if Ferris had something to do with the failed run. As Ferris is right, it should have been an easy job delivering some rare and prohibited meats to the colonists on Perrin. When Karim had dropped the Veil out of slipspace however he’d found himself face-to-face with a USSA destroyer. It hadn’t been an unlucky coincidence, especially as all three hundred of the military ships dual cannons had been aimed at him. Plus they were only a few thousand metres from his exit point, known only by three people. One of those three had been Karim himself while the other two had been Ferris, who had given him the job, and Polly Onjo, the buyer of the illegal meats.

Karim knew for a fact that Polly wasn’t the one who alerted the USSA as he watched her ship detonate and decompress when she refused to extinguish her propulsion drives and instead initiated an attack against the clearly overwhelmingly superior destroyer. That had given Karim the chance to get out of there and return to Orion IV. And for all the tech the USSA have, the ability to make it appear as though they have killed a known dealer isn’t something they hold within their repertoire. Plus it is entirely contrary to how the USSA operate, especially when Polly had been broadcasting openly for both the USSA and himself to hear.

“So you’ll take this job! And you’ll prove you aren’t a snitch! Cause if this job goes wrong a lack of shelter against the Allegiance will be the very least of your worries!” Ferris roars angrily as his hand rests on the grip of a blaster that is hidden from Karim’s view. The barrel of the weapon is aimed squarely at the smugglers chest. Ferris doesn’t think Karim will try anything, but he has to be ready. That’s why his security have their weapons levelled at Karim now instead of lowered and holstered as they had been only a few seconds ago.

The smuggler glances around unsurprised by the array of barrels that are pointed at him. Then he sighs and remarks, “You know full well I’d never jeopardise runs. I’m a free man. I’d never risk that for more coin.”

“Well…” Ferris says with a laugh before continuing, “…you do this or lose the Veil. Your choice. What’ll it be, Kay?”

Karim knows what he’d like to say, but decides better of it and instead bites his tongue. Ferris too can imagine what Karim would like to say which is why he is sitting behind his over wide desk with a smug smile plastered across his face. His own eyes staring into the deep brown eyes of the smuggler opposite him.

Ferris has to admit though that Karim looks the part with his clothes, thick black crew cut hair and several days’ worth of stubble that frame his jaw line perfectly. Still, business is business and Karim owes him for the failed run that resulted in one of his buyers losing their lives.

“I’ll take the job.” Karim answers after a long pause of silence during which the two men stared intently at one another.

Ferris giggles gleefully in response to Karim’s acceptance, not that the crime boss had any belief that the smuggler would do otherwise. Though, Ferris did make sure to keep a watchful eye on Karim’s left hand as it hovered over the Burnblaster sitting in its holster.

“So what is the job?” Karim then asks once Ferris has stopped giggling like a school-girl.

“Weapons run. Nothing too difficult for the Veil I assure you.”

“Where to Ferris?” Karim queries impatiently though while managing to keep his tone light hearted. He isn’t impressed with the criminals continuing evasiveness, which the smuggler knows means there is more to the job than Ferris wishes to admit. When Karim will find that out though he has no idea and that worries him a little.

“You’ll get the cords once you’re loaded and back in orbit Kay.” Ferris answers before adding a wide smile of superiority that grates with Karim who half rolls his eyes in response.

“Am I getting any backup?” Karim questions sure he already knows the answer.

“Not on this one.” Ferris confirms, just as Karim had expected. Though, the smuggler notes that the goons are still stood there with their weapons pointed at him ready to fire. And if he didn’t know any better he’d swear that the goons aren’t human, because they haven’t so much as swayed slightly in all this time. Thus making them appear more like they’re statues than people.

“Should I expect heat?” Karim then queries. He doesn’t know what the answer will be, but he knows what he hopes it’ll be. He doubts he’ll be that lucky though.

But the only response Karim gets is a simple raise of one of Ferris’ overly bushy dark blonde eyebrows. The smuggler knows he won’t get anything more than that so asks, “How long ‘til I’m ready to go?”

“The Veil is already being loaded.” Ferris says with a smile.

“You had no right to assume Ferris.” Karim fires back with an irritated tone. Though, he kept the expression on his face ambivalent as he spoke.

“No right. This is my world. And on it, I will do as I please.” Ferris growls back angrily as the goons around Karim step a half step toward the smuggler making it abundantly clear that they are still ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

But Karim simply shakes his head from side to side twice, turns and then begins to walk back across the long study come swimming pool space toward the narrower than would be expected corridor that will ultimately lead him out of Ferris’ abode.

As he strides confidently Ferris calls out, “The Veil’ll be ready by the time you get back to port.”

Karim says nothing in response as he continues to leave Ferris and his goons behind without an escort showing him the way this time.

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Blurb: Ill-Gotten Gains

Hi everybody! Blurbs are back! Well at least for this week anyway. Took me a while to outline this one and it did get a full revision before I started writing it but its done now. The full short story will be posted tomorrow as normal. But here is the blurb. Hope you like it!

Karim is a smuggler and like all smugglers prefers a low profile. But when you’ve done as many runs as he has that becomes almost impossible. He’s renowned. At least in the underworld. And that renown has led to him becoming a target for the human systems combined authority.
Thus far he’s eluded them but with each run he draws one step closer to their grasp and this might be the run that sees him brought low. But he owes big and like it or not he has to see this through to the end, if he has any hopes of seeing tomorrow.