Tag Archives: LAOS

A lone astronaut stands on an alien planet with dense vegetation, facing a massive reptilian creature. Behind him, the remains of a crashed spaceship smolder, hinting at an uncertain fate on this mysterious world.

Longevity, Chapter 7: 2800

Longevity and Other Stories
A life without end,
stars call from the endless night,
time slips through our hands.
Buy Yours Here:
Amazon - Books2Read

This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Longevity and Other Stories. If you are daring, why not subscribe to my newsletter (they come few and far between), and I’ll send you a PDF copy of the book?

I sat on the edge of my seat, well it’s a throne, made of white marble, and edged in gold in what’s called the Halls of Mars. It’s not on Mars, actually on Venus, but that hardly matters at this stage. The Hall is giant and built into the side of a mountain, dug out like a giant ice cream scooper that came down from the sky and carved out a great bowl straight from the rock on the mountain’s side.

The opening was covered with stained glass. Heavy, thick stained glass, and it was reinforced to keep the Venusian atmosphere at bay, which it did a wonderful job of, even though you couldn’t see out the window at all. Deep in the confines of the cave were vast works of iron and steel, and air conditioners that kept everything breathable as well as light and frosty, even though the temperatures outside would kill you in a heartbeat.

I liked the glass, but the throne had gotten to be a little too much lately. I might have to downgrade to the one made of wood with the lion’s head carved into the back. That and a nice pillow or something. Something springy. Springy and nice.

The stained glass left the floor, and everyone else was covered in a twisted pattern of blue and orange squares all the time.

I should have that replaced. Then again, why mess with it just when I’m enjoying it?

I could call for one of my wives, or husbands. Of course, since I came to power, it’s been mandatory for all planetary leaders to take up at least seventeen wives, and to have as many children as humanly possible. I think right now I’m up to a hundred and thirty-five, but I’ve lost count.

The problem with living this long is that eventually, everyone is in power. It wasn’t long before just stayed in the same spot long enough. I became a council elder, and not long beyond that, a mere fifty years, I was the local high priest. It wasn’t a terrible job. Among the first thought about getting the treatment, I’m perpetually older than almost everyone that I know. You’d think they’d oust me and tie me up and let me live on an asteroid somewhere just for being as dang strange as I am all the time. No one even likes my funny hat. Seriously, I should just quit and become a hermit living in the south of Los Angeles Proper.

There was a knock at my chamber door.

I turned and Bill, my butler I suppose, though that’s only close to what he does come in, with two of my wives with him. Angela and Carmen laid into me about the statue of Venus. I thought they were here for something else.

I could hear them. The words were passing my ears. I could feel their hot breath and feel the tiny raindrops of spittle that were spewing forth as a fine mist. The words were there, pounding on my eardrums and I could not hear what they were. After a few moments, they came to a halt, apparently waiting for some kind of reply from me, and I didn’t have one for them. They huffed and caught their breath. Their breasts heaved a little, but it didn’t phase me.

I waited until they had stopped, and then I turned to them. I kissed Angela on the lips, hugged her, and told her I would think about it. Whatever it was. I’d heard her, which I hadn’t, and I would take her advice as if it was from one of my closest advisers, which, of course, it was.

Carmen, I took them into my arms in a huge embrace and told her I loved her and that I treasured every hair on her head. I took off my hat, a fuzzy thing with a random number of horns on it, put it on her head and hugged her again before returning to my marble throne where I told them I would carefully consider everything they had said to me, whatever it was, then I posed in a very thoughtful position, and said “Hmm” a lot and closed my eyes occasionally and shook my head every once in a while, until that no longer seemed sincere, which it wasn’t. Then I curled up, my feet tucked under me, and pretended to meditate on their complaints until they all eventually went away and I was left alone.

But then, I was never alone.

I saw them beside me.

They were always there.

They stood, seven feet tall, dark green bipedal life forms, totally smooth on their surface, and uniform.

They turned their faceless faces toward me, and I could feel their minds working their way into mine. They were giving me a chance to breathe and speak my mind, which they only did when they wanted something from me.

I could feel their questions in my mind.

Who were they?

“They are two of my wives?”

What do they want?

“I don’t know. I couldn’t hear them with you controlling my mind.”

I fell to the ground.

Their thoughts bore into me, and it was hard to take after a couple of minutes.

When will you give the next order?

“Whenever you want, you’re in control already, aren’t you?”

My body fell, twitching.

I pushed up on my elbows, but they gave out.

One of them broke from the pressure of one of their minds alone as I pushed up again.

I let it lay face down on the ground.

They forced me to sit up.

We have work to do.

I already knew that, though.

Soon I was on my feet, and walking toward the hallway outside my chamber. They were invisible to everyone else, but each was in control of my next right and left steps.

They guided me into my shuttle, and I took the controls.

Soon I was airborne, lifting my little craft over the clouds of Venus.

Behind me, the two creatures sat in the rear seats. I could do nothing to turn my head and see them. Instead, I just piloted the little craft up over the city. Over the years we’d raised an enormous dome over it, and though the clouds surrounded us in a sickly sky all the time, the land beneath it was lush and beautiful and green. We rose closer and closer to the stained glass canopy that covered the capital and I pressed forward as I got closer and closer to it until we broke through, glass shattering all around me.

I zoomed up into the sky over Venus and sped through the clouds until I could see nothing else. I gunned it, swerved around, and then came through them and out over the open sky. I must be up really high.

“What do you want?”

We want everything.

“Why do you care?”

Because you do.

“Where are you from? Why do you want any of it?”

They were silent.

I pressed forward. It wasn’t the first time they’d taken me on a trip like this.

Ahead of me, I could see the dawn coming up. Before long, I’d be in virtual darkness. Below me, any of my cities would be so far under the clouds that you’d never see the lights from them. Maybe a glimmer or a slight glow from them, but nothing like seeing a city from orbit on the Earth.

My comm opened up with a burst of static.

“Sir, is that you up there?”

I touched the controls like nothing was happening.

“Yep, just me, up for a brief flight.”

“Very well, sir. You keep us informed if you need anything.”

“I’ll do that,” I said and switched it off.

I burned through the clouds, which whipped around me and did a barrel roll before turning the ship towards space and flying out into the stars, where I saw them approaching for the first time.

There would be no warning.

They have arranged a series of battle cruisers, both from Earth and from Mars. They were here to wipe us out.

My little black ship went unnoticed, but the patrol ship behind me, who had recognized me earlier, was more clearly marked, and when they opened fire, he was their first target.

They swooped down. The earth ships were bulky, but full of fighters that whipped this way and that, and ran screaming down onto the planet to destroy my cities.

The Martian ships were more specialized. They weren’t creatures of mars as they were the descendants of Human settlers like Venus was.

My home, at least now anyway.

The Martians had huge gas vacuum ships I’ve seen used out on the gas giants, and they were sucking up Venus’s atmosphere. Then they waited for the fighters to fly in and bomb the city and take out my defense towers before the gunships rained down on them with death beams that finished them.

I could only watch.

I only had this flier. It wouldn’t make it even back to Earth. I flew it over to the command ship, a long and dangerous vessel, covered in spikes and turrets, and landed it in the main hanger, right in the middle.

I watched as my little one-man flier was surrounded by army and navy troops. Guns up. Alert. Ready to kill.

I opened the hatch.

Certainly, they were expecting a single mercenary or something.

When they saw it was me, all their guns faltered.

Below us, my planet was coming to a swift end. The war, if it could be called less than genocide, was the end of my people. People who had traveled with me from the beginning when no one thought anything could live there were all dying. Some of them, many of them hundreds of years old.

I was the first and the last of us.

They lowered their weapons.

I stepped down the ladder, and walked through them like they were nothing, and marched up to the control deck. I knew where it was. I’d designed the ship.

Before I could get there, Garrison was running down the ladder.

“Jacob!”

He grabbed me in an embrace.

“Jacob, you weren’t down there!”

I grabbed him by the neck and hugged my cousin. He was out of breath.

He tugged me up to the command deck.

When I walked into it, everyone ducked. They dived under their desks and knocked over the furniture. I strode in, with Garrison behind me. Everyone jumped to salute him. Clearly in charge.

When I turned around, he was kneeling before me.

“Jacob. I can’t sit by while they do this here.”

“What?”

“I surrender to you.”

He held out his pistol to me, a small beam weapon. Nice and deadly.

“I accept.”

“You know the custom, then.”

“I do.”

Garrison fell to the deck after I fired the weapon.

The crew looked at me.

“You can join me, or you can get out. Your choice.”

I kept about half the crew.

The other half got into pods and shot out, and were quickly picked off by the surrounding ships, who must have realized what was going on by now.

The battle below was all but over already.

We fired, taking out one of the larger ships where we concentrated our firepower.

We took damage, and the armor on the ship was pretty much toast, but it was still worthy of travel, so I ordered a jump. We needed to get far out and quickly. Then perhaps we’d survive.

They were about to surround us when we jumped. In a flash of light, we left them all behind. We were supposed to be out near Jupiter. Instead, we were closer to the orbit of Pluto, but it wouldn’t be here for another couple of years yet. Then I realized I was wrong. We hadn’t gone out into the solar system. If there was an up and a down to the celestial disk where our planets all rotated, we had gone as far up as anyone had ever gone, and then some.

The sun was nothing more than a spec, and all around us was nothing.

In the months that followed, I tooled around as best I could, mostly avoiding the government ships. Venus was no more, and I wasn’t that much better off. I blasted out into the outer planets and spent a good deal of time orbiting Neptune, where no one wanted to go. There was little left for me on Earth, nothing on Mars, and a destroyed colony for me on Venus. I couldn’t deal with it anymore. I was just ready to leave. I’d seen what I wanted to see, and I’d done more than I could think of to do, and that’s when the idea hit me to just leave the solar system altogether. There wasn’t anything left for me.

I knew others might feel the same way. I discussed my ideas with the crew, and they were interested, but fewer of them wanted to stay, and I couldn’t blame them. I let most of them off on Titan and sent out the call. There weren’t any actual laws out on Titan yet, and no one was gunning for me here. Most of the people back on Earth thought I was dead, but the governments and leaders knew better. Not because they had intelligence on me or anything, but because I called and offered to give them back their spacecraft. I did it on a couple of occasions while we were in the dock at Neptune, and nobody wanted to spend the money on the fuel to get out there to get me.

I can say I tried, though, and that was enough for me.

The creatures in the background were still buzzing around, and one day, I just had it out with them.

I told them to get out of my life and leave me alone.

They said they wanted to show me something very interesting, but we couldn’t quite get there yet.

I told them to get to the point, or I was through with them for good.

They agreed to upgrade the engines and sent in a couple of technicians to help me take care of it.

I said to prove it, and they did.

That was when I lost almost everyone else.

I was virtually alone on the ship. Sensors could still pick up a couple of people, that were scattered here and there. I chose not to force them off the ship or to seek them out. I just checked on them every once in a while, and occasionally I’d use the ship’s comm system to call out to them and tell them that the kitchens on the fifth and sixth decks had been restocked for them.

They never went up too fast, but they always did. There were probably ten or fifteen in total aboard besides me, but I never saw them.

They came aboard, in a small shuttle, and brought in a new engine, silver and bright, and they would only ever say “because we want to show you something,” when I asked them.

One thing you could still die from as a practically immortal being was starvation, and I would forget to eat, all the time watching them install the new engines. The retrofit took about three years, and while I was stranded on Neptune, I took to watching the surface of the giant. I called it watching the ocean, because of the ways the bands swirled around each other. I took readings, did an analysis, and used all the instruments that were left working on the ship. I also ate a lot of takeout food from a local space station. Even after a while, your synthetic kitchens are no good anymore, and you have to eat something else.

One morning, I walked down to the bridge to hop in the hammock I’d put up in there, and they were standing there.

It’s time, they thought.

“We can run it now?”

Yes.

“Let’s do it then.”

I sat down in the captain’s chair and let them do their thing. They hit knobs, and opened switches, and turned dials, and the whole place lit up. We pulled out of the space station, and the ship turned towards the starry sky of space, where we could no longer see anything of Neptune but a faint blue from behind us, and they turned on the new drive.

Around me, the night sky blazed into a million streaming points of light. The ship was breaking apart. The whole place was shaking and rattling, and spinning in every direction as we sped by the stars at speeds that were supposed to be impossible. If it’s one thing that is true, it’s that saying something is a limit on how fast you can go is like telling a cat that they don’t like tuna sandwiches. It’s just not helpful, and nobody likes it, and somebody is always going to be out to prove you wrong.

We came to a halt, all the stars came back into place, and though I couldn’t recognize the patterns anymore, all became still.

Then I realized that I’d been standing for the entire flight in the same place as if I bolted my feet to the floor.

I looked down, and my clothes looked brittle and dusty like I was some kind of exhibit, then I reached down and found the long beard attached to my face, easily two and a half, maybe three feet long in places, and stark white.

I threw up on the deck, and fell flat on my face, and learned how to breathe again.

When I pushed myself up, they were standing there before me again.

“Are we there?”

We are close.

“Where are we?”

Look.

I looked out the windows of the bridge and below us was a huge alien planet, lush with vegetation.

“Can we land?”

They nodded and then vanished.

I commanded the ship to land, and it found a suitable spot, and glided down into the atmosphere, shaking all the way.

As I stepped off the platform onto the planet’s surface, I heard them say in my ear. “You can never go back.”

The ship could no longer handle its weight and cracked, and busted and fall apart behind me.

Turning, without so much as a lunch box, I found myself face to face with what I always imagined a dinosaur would look like.

It scratched the ground with its talons and charged.

A futuristic deep-sea exploration pod floats in Titan’s dark ocean, surrounded by glowing alien life. A massive, luminous whale-like creature drifts nearby, its bioluminescence lighting up the depths, while schools of silver fish swirl in the background.

Longevity, Chapter 5: 2200

Longevity and Other Stories
A life without end,
stars call from the endless night,
time slips through our hands.
Buy Yours Here:
Amazon - Books2Read

This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Longevity and Other Stories. If you are daring, why not subscribe to my newsletter (they come few and far between), and I’ll send you a PDF copy of the book?

I sat back on my little porch, a balcony really, and looked out at the ocean. Blue-green as far as the eye could see, almost crystal clear towards the shore, a beach as clean as you could get. There were scattered umbrellas here and there in patterns of fuchsia and aquamarine, and white. Few people still, but the war was long over and, though everyone remembered it, no one remembered it. Does that make sense? It is the kind of thing that’s only ever talked about anymore in movies and on the Internet if you go back far enough, and since the browsers are still updating about a version number every five months, it’s harder and harder to find plug-ins that can translate the old stuff anymore.

The sky is clear. Only a few planes are up in it anymore, but those that are can carry five thousand people at a time. There are some smaller air vans around, but most of us just program our cars and let them do the work these days. They’ll find the best route, and take us there without having to ever refuel and streets are all but useless, but no longer all destroyed. We still like to pave walking paths and I like the bike trail I use from here to the store and back every day. Just a regular bike, you know, like when I was a kid. I like it. Had to order the thing from the other side of the planet, but that didn’t matter. Everything seems to ship overnight all the time, and I’ve put away enough money to be comfortable, but I’m still on the lookout for something to do, that’s all. I want to just find something.

Mary and I were married last year. I know that sounds odd, doesn’t it? Married Mary? I refused to use the term in front of her. I figure when you’ve got a name that invites the jokes you’ve heard them all right?

I do like the pelicans, though. They hover over my condo all the time, and yes, I feed them. They’ll eat anything. I was feeding them the remains of fish that I’d already cleaned as they sat there on the pier. (there’s a pretty good pier down on the shore about two buildings down.) They are like big walking trash buckets. I could probably have tossed my whole bag of fishing gear and they would have eaten it. They’re dumb, but I like them.

One of them comes to see me all the time. I call him Pete. No particular reason. I just like him. I know that it’s Pete because he’s missing his left eye, and he’s a little slower than the other pelicans.

After the war, most of the cities were destroyed.

We had a lot of crap to clean up, not to mention all the walkers we had to get rid of. That was a mess and a half.

We did the job, though, but there weren’t as many of us after the war. We’re doing fine now, and yes, everyone still gets the shot when they are born, but it was just too hard to stay settled in some areas. Anywhere that was cold was just out, and we kept moving further and further south. Some went east and west, but no one went north. Most people ended up on the coast somewhere. We didn’t have any boats in the water to pollute it with, most stuff being delivered by air freighter, and all the cars had little atomic power cells in them. Safe. Yes, I know what you’re thinking. But things never need a battery. I had my hover bike outfitted with one the year before last, and the car came after that, though I can hardly call the thing a car since my first car was a practically rusted-out Camaro from the 1980s.

The car, if you could call it that, is more like a traveling living room. It’s made up of a large bubble top surrounded by four repulsor plates and a small two-foot wall all the way around. Inside is a carpeted room under that domed ceiling with a table that stands, bolted to the floor on a chrome pole. Surrounding the table are a series of chairs. Four can sit at the table, and there is a three-seat couch at the back. There are also little monitors all over the place. You can watch films or listen to music as you safely glide to your next destination. It seems to take about an hour to get anywhere in the United States. (Or what’s left of the United States, let’s call it North America. That’s just the way I think sometimes.) and if you’re going overseas, it seems to take between an hour and three hours to get anywhere in the world.

That’s nothing to what we’re doing in space, though.

There’s a reason there aren’t more bodies out on the beach today. It’s the fact that we’ve confirmed the existence of life outside our solar system. People are out celebrating.

I was out getting away from the video screens for a minute, but we’ve been sending probes out to distant stars and though most haven’t gotten where they are going, the one to Alpha Centauri did. We’ve been watching the reports for a while now about all the planets we’re discovering there. The first one was a big gas giant, then several smaller ones, then the mother-load. We haven’t even fully explored our planets yet, but we’ve got this. The rocket landed on the fourth planet there and touched down after sensing a lot of heat that was moving around, and when the cameras turned on, there was this enormous great white bear-like thing, kind of like a polar bear but the size of a mastodon licking the camera. Once they figured out they couldn’t eat it, they lost interest.

For the first time since the war, the bears, as they were called, had everyone glued to their monitors again, but this time it was more of a window than anything else. The space program’s channel page has no sponsorship, and no breaks, just a constant stream of television from another world. Eventually, other cameras were set up, and the observers could choose between them. Every once in a while when the bears were getting too far away from the cameras they would sound a ping or play a tune, or flash a light at them to keep them nearby and interested while they set up a roving camera to follow them with, which just took a day or two more to complete.

It didn’t take long to understand that it was a family group, that there was a father and a mother, and about six cubs from various years. Without a lot more detail, they did not know how old they might be, but then again, that would be relevant to where they were from, wouldn’t it? A team of scientists figured out that the planet rotated about once every twenty-five earth hours and that their year comprised about four hundred and fifteen of those twenty-five hour days, and then somebody realized that the planet was hurtling much faster through space than the Earth was. In the end, most people just watched them. They didn’t know what was waiting for them on Titan, just a quick hop over to Saturn, but that was still being discovered. We were regularly hopping back and forth to the moon, and occasionally to Mars and Venus with a regularity that made it commonplace, but nothing more exciting than that. But regular trips to the outer planets were still a fairly new concept. It was done, just barely enough for any real research to be done. They could get there, but by the time the astronauts were home it had been ten years or more, and faster methods of propulsion were on the rise. It wouldn’t take much longer to find them.

The family of bears was everywhere you looked. You could see it for miles and miles. It was in every window, in every coffee shop, and at every transit station across town. People ate their breakfast with the bear family in the background behind them. They took showers in stalls that were made of water-proof screens and brushed their teeth with arctic bear toothbrushes.

They even set up large screens at the beach and pointed projectors up at them to see if they could make it look like the same place the bears might inhabit.

All kinds of data came back from the probe, weather-related data, rainfall, heat, and cold. Pretty soon, they had a sidebar on the channel that listed the weather projections on the planet, and before long, they saw the birds.

The birds the bears ate were enormous, with thirteen-foot wingspans and double beaks. All the birds seem to have developed into this double-headed format. They would eat with one head, and watch for the bears, and screech if they saw one with the other. Despite having two heads, they didn’t seem to share consciousness. They screeched and fluttered and before long a family of them had set up a nest atop the primary structure of the probe, and just out of reach of the bears.

This was new to them. Most of the images of the planet were devoid of trees, but what land there was had a considerable number of short bushes and grasses on them. It seemed to be a new thing to get away from the bears without having to be actively flying away.

Before long, the birds got aggressive, and started to dive-bomb the bears, and nip at their ears, but the spacemen in charge of the probe decided quickly they’d had enough of that and set off a small shock when the birds landed on the main rocket until they left it alone for good. Soon, the behavior seemed to return to normal, whatever that was. 

The only thing to interrupt the daily drama of the bears was when a nearly forgotten probe near Saturn’s moon, Titan, crashed into the surface after a malfunction.

Everyone thought the probe was dead, but it continued to film video and take pictures, and record sound until it couldn’t take the pressure anymore from the nearly frozen ocean it was sinking into. The media didn’t make it back to Earth through space until an hour after the crash had occurred, but before long, there was an entire channel set up to display that new data.

There were three hundred and fifty pictures, three minutes of video, and one clear audio recording of the song of the whales beneath the ice on Titan. They looped through it endlessly, usually with the video playing picture-in-picture style with the stills, most of them fairly fuzzy, and the audio clip of Titan whale song looping in and out of some calm and peaceful background music. There was not only life on other planets but elsewhere in our solar system.

I wanted to see the whales for myself.

I wanted to see them, and I wanted to experience them first-hand.

And since I was among the first to get the shot, I was one of the oldest people alive on the earth, and that came with some perks every once in a while. I talked my way on board the next ship to Saturn. A ship of scientists, and a couple of robots to help them clean up after meals, and me. It turns out they were taking anyone else who would sign-up and I was the only one who asked.

You know, getting to see those whales was probably the best experience of my life, but, and this is strange… It’s not all that unpleasant to go into suspended animation either. Some say it’s dreamless, but that’s not true. I had periods of deep sleep that were frequently permeated with vibrant and delicious dreams. When they brought me out I was disappointed, at least for the first thirty seconds, until I saw the whales lumbering beneath me, singing a great slow hello to us from the water.

We were positioned on this ice shelf in the middle of nowhere, there with all the equipment that we could carry with us, and all the food and all the things we thought we would need. The spacecraft sat, with the tips of its fins buried in the ice. It would never return to Earth. There was another craft in orbit around us for that. We’d lift off and leave the rest of the lander behind when we left, but there was a huge chunk of ice that we’d uncovered and cut out of the ice, moving it to the side. It was about thirty feet thick and seemed to cover just about everything. The lander kept us well anchored, and we had a great underwater sphere, big enough for five or six people to live in for a year, and we did. As soon as we were all revived, had slapped our arms and legs, and had some time to shake the reality of where we were into our heads, we sent a message back to Earth and lowered ourselves into Titan’s ocean. There was some worry that the pod wouldn’t be able to deal with the cold, and would still crack halfway down no matter what the guys who built her had said, but we didn’t know that.

It never cracked, at least not as far as I could tell, and no one ever said anything until we got back, but we were just there to take as many pictures as we could, and then get safely home. If we got any video or any sound recordings, then that was a bonus, and we went to work.

We dived into that ice-cold ocean.

While we were still up in the areas that got some kind of light, we could already see the whales. At least they were whale-like and that was enough for me. Their song was beautiful and slow and sad all at the same time. At first, we thought they were really on their own here, but before we dived another ten feet, we saw everything else that was there for us to see.

The next round comprised almost a thick layer of silverfish that were gathering together and balling into large groups as predators slid through them with gaping maws. There were so many of them they almost looked like a solid mass, but they were no bigger than a hand span across each.

We passed down through that layer and after the pressure changed a bit; we saw fewer of the small fish, hear less of the whale song, and we saw luminescent fish, jellies, and other anglers who all seemed to glow in the dark of their own accord. These surrounded us and they started to sucker onto the outside of the pod as it lowered down into the ocean. If there was any light to be seen from the surface, you couldn’t see it anymore, but the light from the fish’s bodies, mixed with the minimal lighting on the control panels, was enough to read by pleasantly.

We dropped and lowered and eventually hit the end of our tether.

It looked like the middle of space and we couldn’t see anything.

We were just about to call it quits and raise the pod to a shallower depth, where we still had something to see, but we all agreed to stop and wait a while before going up again. We spent an entire day, at least for us, twenty-four earth hours down there, each looking out of another porthole and staring out into nothingness. Then one of us, looking slightly down below, saw something in the water.

My first instinct was to reach up and turn on the floodlights, but a colleague of mine slapped my hand away. “Not yet,” he said.

I looked down, concentrated, and stared into the darkness for another hour, and then I saw it as well. It looked like a giant Koi, or goldfish swimming deep beneath us, its body lit up dimly through its light. It was massive, much larger than any of the whales up above us, but it was hard to see how far off it was. It could have been five feet across and just a few feet below us, but it seemed to lumber along in such a lazy, comfortable way that it seemed like it must be a much larger creature than that. It swam along, and almost seemed to feel its way around with large whiskers, like a gigantic catfish in the sea, and as the lights on its skin glowed just a little brighter each moment, we could see around it great oceans of those silverfish from above all around it, though this made the fish as large as a mountain beneath us.

Then it saw us.

It did almost this double take, glancing over it, and came up to investigate us. It rose to our level, and one of its eyes was larger than our entire craft. The cable above us reached into the heavens, and it slowly circled us. It then circled us in a spiral, each time getting just a little further and further away from us until it was faint in the distance. After several days, it took an entire day to get around us.

We took as many pictures and readings as possible.

Soon it was out of sight, and checking our fuel and provisions, we hit the button that would take us back up again.

We passed through the jellies, and we passed through the silverfish, being preyed upon by shark-like daggers in the water, and then back into the realm of the whales, who almost seemed to greet us with a new song. We stayed for a while, as long as we could, and then we hauled the pod back out of the water, and into the lander.

We blasted off three days later and connected with the orbiter, and soon we were all safely stowed away in our beds to sleep on our way home.

Three years journey back, and we flitted through the night sky like a shooting star and landed in the ocean near former Greenland, and were rescued by a bewildered Captain and the crew of his fishing boat.

A dystopian battlefield with a towering military walker amid burning ruins. A lone survivor on a hoverbike grips a rifle, preparing for battle. Drones hover above, scanning the wreckage, while distant rebels take position for a counterattack.

Longevity, Chapter 4: 2100

Longevity and Other Stories
A life without end,
stars call from the endless night,
time slips through our hands.
Buy Yours Here:
Amazon - Books2Read

This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Longevity and Other Stories. If you are daring, why not subscribe to my newsletter (they come few and far between), and I’ll send you a PDF copy of the book?

The war raged outside as I stayed indoors and away from windows. I didn’t look a day over fifty, but I felt every year of age that I was that day. I sat, eating takeout, the cartons and containers of which were scattered about my darkened one-bedroom apartment. Only the light from the video wall illuminated anything. It reflected in my glasses the devastation that lay outside.

Everything was on fire. Everything smoked and burned and shriveled. Outside, low robot fliers made deliveries to shut-ins on small hoverbikes that whipped in and out of the remains of the buildings. One zipped by my window and waved at me. That was the signal that the coast was clear. It was safe to go outside for a while, but I could still hear them in the distance making their steps forward. Large military walkers towered over the skyline and took steps across the landscape with giant iron feet that swung in the air a good half mile before they landed again, either smashing a car flat or creating a small crater that would fill up with frogs and water after the next rainfall.

I passed a portrait of my family on the wall next to my front door. The glass was cracked as if from a fist punch, and it hung there at a slight angle. I straightened it on its nail and rubbed what was left of the glass with a hand covered in a fingerless glove.

I stepped through the door and looked out across the field and at what was left of the interstate that I could see from my apartment. Out in the hazy distance stood one walker. Five giant legs carried a disk-shaped body aloft. Sitting atop the disk were two heads that craned around, each one crewed by several people. There was a driver seated in a separate command post lower down where they guided the walker around, but the crews in the two heads had slightly different duties. Each head and some walkers had four, would have a captain, a scanner, and a weapons officer. The scanner used piercing equipment to scan the area for offenders, and the weapons officer, well, they were there to destroy those targets.

These days, everyone had their apartments lined with aluminum foil, and whatever else it took to jam the signals. This method continued to change, and every once in a while they’d alter the walkers and target differently, and you’d have to redecorate all over again.

I wrapped a blanket around myself and stood there. The city was on fire, but the weather was still bitter. It had gotten progressively colder over the last twenty years. Before long, I figure they’d all be hiking across the ice every day. It was probably time to go south, to pack up. This old apartment had served for a long time, but it was hardly a house anymore.

The smoke was clearing in the distance, and the hoverbikes were coming out more and more often. Some of them were already zipping through the trees below me. The streets were useless and destroyed. If you wanted to get anywhere, it was hover bikes, cars, and the big walkers. The roads were destroyed through neglect or stomped into a pock-marked wasteland by the walkers, so it was getting up off the ground with a hover bike or hike, and that wasn’t safe because of the coyotes. Sick with rabies and various stages of radiation sickness, a bite from one of them, and, well, you wanted to stay off the ground if you wanted to live.

I turned the knob and went back in. The video wall was giving me totals and counts of all the offenders ‘rectified’ in the area over the last twenty-four hours. It was a series of pictures next to lists of crimes and bomb camera video of their houses and apartment buildings being destroyed in high definition resolution.

A picture appeared on the bottom right of the wall. It was a scrambled channel that only came up when the walkers had gotten far enough away that they couldn’t detect it. Merely having a connection to the channel was an immediate death sentence for the walkers.

A woman’s face lit up on the screen. She had wind-blown red hair, an eye patch, and a skin-tight leather outfit on. “Calling all freedom fighters, can you hear me?” she said.

I put on a small headset that fits into my ear, the possession of which was also an immediate death sentence, an order for condemnation and destruction of his entire building with me in it. I tapped a small triangular button now at his ear, and a small spherical camera floated up from its accustomed place on the shelf and floated over to me. As if it were a person, I looked at it.

“I’m here,” I said.

“Good, Andersen. Nice to have you with us. I thought we’d lost you during that last raid.”

“I thought I was dead, too. Thank you. It’s good to be alive.”

“We need you on the move.”

“This place isn’t safe anymore?”

“Not just that. Your orders have changed. It’s no longer a role of observation. We’re moving as many of our forces to Old Mexico as possible, and you’re next on the list.”

A list of names appeared on the display. Additional people were on the call.

“All of you coming online, that’s good to see,” she said. “We’re moving to Old Mexico. It’s time to get everything together before they do another sweep.”

“But it looks like the walker is still heading south,” I said.

“We’ve got someone inside, a small team actually, and they report the walker is about to double back.”

“But they never…”

“We know. They are changing their tactics again.” Pretty soon, they are going to be within range, and we’ll have to cut the signal off again. We need you to gather your essential kit and get on a hoverbike as quickly as you can. We’re going to meet at the old baseball stadium by the river, and go from there.”

The picture fizzled out, and then she appeared again, but she was looking the wrong way. She turned back again.

“They’re on the way. It’ll take them half an hour to turn the walker around. At least that’s in our favor. Now go. We’ll see you there.”

She fizzled one last time, and I was left with the compulsory wall of death, facing him again. If only he could turn the channel on it, but it was fixed.

On the table near the kitchen was a birthday cake, with a plastic 100 on top of it. I didn’t feel a day over thirty-five or forty, but it was my hundredth birthday today. I passed the leftover cake, which I’d largely eaten by myself without another thought, and went to the bathroom, into my bedroom, and then into the closet. In there, I rummaged through my clothes, pulled down shirt after shirt, looking, then just pulled down the entire bar and let everything fall to the floor. Behind it, was a small alcove cut into the wall, a crack in the sheetrock. I picked at it with my fingers and a crack split down. Another pull and I pulled a fist-sized chunk from the wall and threw it into the clothes. More wall, more mess, and I’d pulled free a large hole. I reached in, pulled out a medium-sized backpack, and put it on. It was already packed. I reached in again, and pulled out a motorcycle helmet, a rifle, already loaded, and a pair of thick boots.

I pulled them on.

I left the apartment with my rifle under one arm, and my helmet in the other, and holding the rifle under my arm, I locked the apartment with a little copper key and looked out the back of the stairwell. There was a sheer drop of about fifty feet off the back of the apartment complex. I reached out with the keys and activated a button on one of the key fobs.

There was a roar of an engine underneath him, and then it calmed down to a small whispering growl, and the hoverbike floated out from underneath the stairwell.

It rose, and I straddled it. Slipping the rifle into a small compartment on the side, and pulling on his helmet, I got on board. I gunned the engine, allowed the hoverbike to float out into the woods behind the apartments, and then flew it low and slow, and out of town. There were plenty of people on the road, and they dressed of them about the same as I was. Some of them were packing, and some were not, but the only thing true was that no one traveled on the ground anymore. I kept mostly to side roads, and small stretches of wood, but when I had to get on what was considered the highway, I was in such similar company or all by myself to where no one noticed me anymore.

I slid under a bridge and out into the country beyond, well out of the reaches of the road. Every once in a while I turned and would come near the road again, and one time I saw another walker slowly lumbering back towards town, and then the flash went off.

I shut my visor and brought the bike to the ground, which was already rumbling. Behind me, the mushroom-style tower of smoke rose above what I used to call home, or rather the city I used to call home. There was a rumble and a roar, and the ground shook underneath me. I revved up the engine and gunned it. I flew as trees around me fell and the ground opened up like a great crack unzipping and eating all the rocks and the vegetation like some insane and ravenous beast.

I dodged a pine tree on its way down, which, when it landed, created a bridge across a fresh crack in the ground for a moment before being swallowed itself.

I turned a corner and avoided another small bridge, collapsing behind me right after I flew under it, and could hear the walkers on the move again, trudging along. I pulled to a stop and revved the engine down so I could hear better.

Stomp.

Stomp.

Stomp.

Would they send out the drones?

I revved the bike up again and slid through a small grove before they caught up with me. They were about a foot across, spherical and covered in spikes and other whirling protrusions, and little red and blue lights in a pattern that made little sense.

A small swarm of flying drones was right behind me. They darted this way and that outside and inside the trees. One of them took to shooting off limbs, trying to get one to fall right in front of me, but I was already twitching in the other direction to avoid them.

I flew over a small gorge with them following me, and then through the spray of a waterfall, the power of which took two of them out. They were caught up in the water and dashed against the rocks below.

I swung around and through a series of trees at an ever-increasing speed, and nicked one tree, sending myself spinning. I could right myself just as another couple of drones hit the tree and exploded.

I pulled out the rifle, cocked it, and fired at the last two. One of them went down in a blaze of light. The other headed right for me.

I fired again and missed. It careened into me and knocked me to the ground. Limbs sprained or just plain broken, I flopped to the ground and lay there, breathing shallowly. The drone stopped in front of me.

It aimed.

It confirmed its target from a database back at the office.

All its little lights went red, and there was a hollow whining noise as the kill cannon aimed at me lit up with vibrant energy.

Then it exploded. There was a streaming blaze of energy from the ground to my left side.

The drone was overloaded with power.

It lurched and fell to the ground.

Then the three of them, all dressed in camouflage and grease paint, with leaves in their hair, stood up and fired again.

What was left of the drone was completely blown away?

The three of them, a woman, beautiful with deep black eyes and silvery hair, and two men, each a little worse for the wear, stood over me.

I tried to speak, but the pain was just too much. I tried to clench my sprained wrist with the hand on my broken arm and vomited into a small puddle filled with frogs.

“Who is he?” said the woman. “Do we take him with us?”

“I don’t know. He looks like one of us. He’s got the bike and the gear,” said one man.

“Let’s scan him,” said the woman.

She pulled a small circular scanner, and the men pried my eyes open.

She waved the little wand over my eyes and got a retinal scan.

“Oh God,” she said. “Get him on board.”

They pulled me into their craft, which was a modified old Jeep Wrangler with hover plates for tires, and they flew through the trees.

“I hope he’s worth it,” she said as I slowly lost consciousness.

When I awakened. I was sitting in a bathtub, naked, and covered in a viscous translucent jelly up to my neck.

“Where am I?”

“Safe,” said the woman from before. Her hair was now out of its helmet. Her jumpsuit was clean. She wore two pistols on her hips and a shotgun over her back.

“Right,” I said.

“Do you know where you are?”

“At the base, I assume, wherever that is.”

“Yes.”

She coughed and then continued. “We all thought you were dead.”

“Wishful thinking I suppose.”

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

“One of what?”

“One of the men who can’t die.”

“Yeah well, they don’t do it anymore do they?”

“Not since the walkers, no.”

“I suppose I could be killed. Hasn’t happened yet.”

She couldn’t have been over sixteen.

My eyes were coming back into focus.

People were milling about. The others who had found me were close by, but there was another group gathering around an acrylic board just a few feet away. They were pointing at different places on the map, and crossing off cities across America, each with a big letter X.

“What about my arm?”

“It’s almost healed,” said the one with the silver hair.

“Good.”

I pushed out of the tub of slime, which splattered everywhere.

“Hey, you’re not done yet!”

“I think I am.”

I stood up and slung off the healing slime, and reached out for the towel I was already being offered. I wiped the slime from my body and wrapped the towel around myself. Since the shot, I’ve always been a quick healer and that slime only makes it that much faster.

The men over by the acrylic board had heard the commotion, and their meeting had already broken up. They were watching me, and I was shambling toward them, my hair still wet from the slime. I stood before them.

“Any others like me?”

They shook their heads.

“How old are all of you?”

They murmured to themselves.

“How old? Come on now.”

I whipped my hand around at one of them and sent a sheet of slime their way.

They answered. Numbers from ten to twenty, but no higher. There was no one else. No one else still remembered it the way it used to be.

“Is it true?”

“Yes.”

“The serum keeps you young.”

“It kept many people very young, well, it just kept us from aging anymore.”

“How old are you?”

“A hundred today. Now, what’s going on?”

They pointed out the board. It was a representation of the world. Everything was in a grease pencil or dry-erase marker. There were little electronics around. Less to trace. Most of the major cities were destroyed. They were orange, with circles around them notating the radiation levels. There were also green triangles all over the place.

“What are the green triangles?”

“They are where we think the walkers are.”

“Let’s go take one down.”

“You’re serious.”

“Yes. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of all this. It’s all drones these days, anyway. Let’s take one down.”

“How do we do that?”

“They’re slow.”

In half an hour, they were all out and riding back toward town. I took the lead. On the way out of the city, I saw the walker that I passed.

An old mill that was broken down and in ruins was the place I led them through.

The walker stood over a lake, its feet completely submerged.

I made a hand gesture, a fist in the sky to get their attention, then motioned to the left and the right, and they circled the legs. They were usually upon three legs, tripod style with two off the ground, but this time the walker was still, with all five down. They split off into groups and started attacking the knees. They didn’t have lasers, they only had bullets, explosives, and old-style dynamite, but it was worth it. They lobbed dynamite into all the cracks and crevices they could find, and then, while the walker’s heads were trying to search for them, the knees exploded all the way around. The walker’s disk-shaped body fell into the lake, and the remains of its legs all stood around it.

A fog of steam flew up over them as they regrouped in search of their next target. 

Two climbers sit atop a mountain peak under a brilliant starry sky, gazing at the world below. A futuristic air car hovers nearby, symbolizing adventure, progress, and the evolving concept of longevity in a technologically advanced future.

Longevity, Chapter 3: 2050

Longevity and Other Stories
A life without end,
stars call from the endless night,
time slips through our hands.
Buy Yours Here:
Amazon - Books2Read

This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Longevity and Other Stories. If you are daring, why not subscribe to my newsletter (they come few and far between), and I’ll send you a PDF copy of the book?

“It’s interesting is all I can say,” I said as I wedged my fingers into the crack of the rock face in front of me. “Sarah’s getting married now, and it just doesn’t seem all that real. I always heard that life seemed to speed up as you got older, but it just seemed like yesterday to me.”

Henry dangled next to me and swung about, trying for a better hold. The cables that were holding us up weren’t going anywhere. You could hold up a suspension bridge with them. Thin as a pencil, but pound for pound, it was rated to hold up a Mack truck with a single strand in a hurricane. They were already replacing the supports on major bridges with the stuff, and it held more than one little kid’s tire swing up with no fear of breaking. If anything, the tire would split first, but since they were so strong these days, you had to practically shred them yourself just to get rid of them when they came off the cars by brute force. They were a nuisance, and it wasn’t long before most of the houses had been shingled with reprocessed tires.

I pulled at my rope, and it didn’t budge. Three hundred feet in the air, and I was comfortable enough to pull out my lunch.

Henry stopped bobbling about and turned to face me.

I held out a sandwich and a squeeze bottle of coffee, and Henry took them.

After scalding his upper lip with some poor aim, he took to the sandwich and munched at it.

“Do you love her, Henry?” I said. “Do you love Sarah?”

“Yes sir, I do,” said Henry through a mouth full of a tuna salad sandwich.

“That’s good.”

Henry gave me a wary look. I still wasn’t sure I liked him.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to scare you, or anything as foolish as that.”

“I know.”

“I just had to be sure. Here’s the thing, son,” I said.

“I love her mother more than just about anything in the world. I worship the quicksand she walks on.”

I took a sip from my coffee and then said: “Would you die for her?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s good to hear. Now I’m going to tell you something that you probably will not expect.”

“Sir?”

“I want you to make the rules together.”

“The rules.”

“Yes, the rules. I don’t want you to listen to me, or anyone else, in laying down the law in your household. Don’t let us tell you what to do. Don’t let your parents tell you what to do. Don’t fall into a rut and do what you think society wants to tell you to do, either.”

“What should I do then?”

“You should make your own decisions. Are you going to this church or to that one, you and she, you decide together? Are you going to have children or not?”

“We were…”

“I mean, just don’t let us pressure you. There’s no point, anyway. You need to make all those kinds of decisions together. Take your time and get to know each other as much as you can.”

Henry nodded.

“Of course, that’s something that you can ignore, too. If you both thought it was right, and you wanted to run away together rather than having this big wedding we’re planning, then that’s what you should do.”

Jacob reached out a finger that looked like the finger of a thirty-year-old to him and poked the twenty-something Henry in the chest with it. He thought it should look older than it did, that it should have some spots or something, that some of his hair should be gray, but none of it was. There might be the occasional stray gray, but they were so few that they barely counted.

“That’s what I mean though,” I said. “It’s all about you and her deciding. Sarah’s one of my favorite people in the world, and not just because she’s my daughter. She’s bright and intelligent, and one of the happiest people I’ve ever met. She’s got this way of making you smile just by winking at you.”

“I know. I love that about her.”

“Good. You keep that, and here is the hardest part, well two parts that I’m certain are hard for me to say because I’m still working through them all in my head. Are you ready?”

“I think so.”

Henry burned himself, missing the coffee again.

“Here, stick that thing in your mouth when you do that.”

Jacob reached over and handed Henry a handkerchief, which Henry immediately dropped, then sheepishly wiped at his face with his hands again.

“Sorry about that.”

“Okay, here it is. First, if you and she decided not to take the shot, then I will not get upset about that. We’ll keep it to ourselves, and we’ll never speak of it, and if you need to move and take my daughter far away from me, then that’s what you’ve got to do. I’ll always see her someday. It’s not like we don’t have constant video streaming all the time. Even on this mountain, we could probably call her if we wanted to.”

Henry thought about it for a moment.

“First, while we’re not planning to move soon, we’re staying in the city. I thank you for that freedom. You never know when you’ll need to make a move somewhere. As for the shot. We’ve already taken it.”

I nodded. It’s what I had expected, and it wasn’t a big surprise.

“Dutiful son,” I said. “Good. Now let’s get up this mountain.”

We put away our lunches and climbed, first using our cables to get back in line with the rock face, and then up it was, finger after finger, and step after step, and inch by inch we made our way to the top.

We pushed up, and stood on the peak, a small flat place, about large enough to spread out and sit, and checked the equipment the guide had left there the day before. There was a strong clamp, holding all the cables in place. They still did not release those, even now. It was too easy to step off and opened a pack that had been left for them in a sturdy box, also clamped to the rock’s surface.

The box contained a couple of sleeping bags and a cooler with bottles of water and enough food for another couple of meals in it.

We spread out the sleeping bags. On the bottom side of the bags, small clamps, about the size of bottle caps were lined around the edges, and once the sleeping bags were laid down, and a button was pressed there was a small hiss, and the small metallic clamps locked them into place.

We spread out on the peak, folded our hands behind our heads, and looked at the sky.

Clouds were passing overhead, but it didn’t look like much. There were deep swirls and dark areas that looked pregnant with rain, but they would drop it somewhere else. They let the wind blow over their bodies, and they kept their eyes glued to the sky.

The clouds soon gave way to an open blue sky with occasional wisps of clouds in the distance. They watched the hawks, and eagles circling high above them, and the ravens that were tormenting them, and distracting them from their search for prey, pecking at their backs, and swooping in and out between them.

The hawks would fight back and fend them off, sometimes swooping down to fly somewhere else, but the eagles would just rise higher, and leave the ravens behind where they couldn’t reach them anymore.

Twilight overtook us, and the stars came out. It was going to be a nearly moonless night, and the closest city was miles and miles away from them. We kept our flashlights off and let our eyes adjust to the almost total darkness. The heavens opened up, and they could see thousands and thousands of stars. The constellations were easy to pick out, and with very little in their field of vision around them they could relax their minds and observe them by the Earth’s turning, the stars seemed to slowly rotate around us like a massive dome that was being rolled over them. After a couple of hours, we could see the galactic disk, where the largest concentration of stars was, where the rest of the Milky Way spun on into the night.

We also counted the satellites. Most of them followed similar paths, but we thought they could also see the remains of Russia’s space station, and Europe’s new Low Earth Orbit station. The US had one as well, but it didn’t come into view this night. Orbit stations looked like small moons, but dull metal instead of bright like the real moon, and about five percent the size of the moon to our eyes. Out there, fifteen people lived full time, sometimes swapping with extra crew members sent up on one of sixteen shuttles that might be on missions at any one time.

Later we found the constellation Pegasus and counted the stars we could see inside the square. I could see three more than Henry could, but Henry didn’t know I was bluffing.

“Do you think there’s anyone out there?” said Henry. He almost whispered it.

“Gotta be, right?”

A v-formation of jets flew over us and banked toward the south. It shook the mountain we were on and rustled the nearby brush.

“Woo,” I said.

We pushed up on our elbows and kept our eyes on the skies.

“A friend of mine once said that if there was life found elsewhere in the universe, it would be something boring like polar bears or something.”

We watched as the stars turned and turned above us.

We counted the satellites in silence for a while.

About an hour later, Henry’s arm popped into the sky as a shooting star went by. It streaked across in a long line and burned out.

“I’ve never seen one of those!” said Henry.

“What, the shooting star?”

“Yeah.”

“It won’t be the last. We’ll probably see a couple more of them tonight.”

Another one flashed by, and Jacob pushed up on one of his elbows. “Interesting,” he said.

Three more flashed across the sky, all in the same direction.

Zing! Zing! Zing!

We could almost hear them.

“That’s just amazing.”

“Look, another one.”

Henry smiled, and I was thinking about it a little.

“Now that I think of it, I think we might be in for a pretty magnificent show tonight. What a night to do this.”

“Why?”

“Looks like it’s a full meteor shower.”

Another one zipped by.

“How many might we see?”

“Could be a couple hundred.”

We sat back and thought about it, and watched the sky as one after another lit the night up, and the spark of life surrounded them. We saw hundreds and hundreds of them before the morning came.

In the early hours of the morning, before Henry rose for the day, I sat on the edge and drank an instant cup of coffee. All I had to do was pull on a tab near the edge of the cup, and it heated. I drank at it and checked my mobile.

I tapped a code into it and smiled. In the distance, I could hear the engine of my air car heating. Way down below, its headlights came on and slowly rose to us. I stored away my sleeping bag and camping gear. I stuffed them into my backpack and got dressed. Shoes on, I was ready.

Henry pushed and sat up. “What’s going on?”

I smiled at him.

“Hate to do this to you, Henry. We’ve had a good night. If you love my daughter, you’ll forgive me for this, but I want to test you just a little.”

The car rose, and the door opened.

“Are you going to leave me up here?”

“Yes, I am.”

I stepped into the car, where another pack was.

“But I will not leave you like this.”

I tossed the extra pack onto the mountain with Henry.

“Extra supplies.”

I smiled and waved as I drove off.

Henry never said another word.

I pulled away and lit up a display to my left.

“Let’s turn on that tracker, yeah?”

I hit a button, and a small blip appeared on the monitor.

“There he is. That’s good. He’s kept the pack I gave him. That’ll make him easier to track.”

The blip was moving fast.

“Oh, he’s good. Look at that. He’s already on the way down.”

The blip was plummeting to the ground, and fast.

“Very interesting.”

I banked to the left and circled the mountain. On the side of the mountain, he could see Henry repelling down, and not taking his time. Henry deftly hit all the right spots and made all the right jumps. He was heading down quickly.

I pulled the car around and touched down next to a small restaurant at the mountain’s base. I pulled in and parked in an open spot, and got out of the car. As I shut the door and looked up, I saw Henry there, sitting in a rocking chair I swore was empty as I landed.

Henry was out of breath. His face and arms and legs were covered in scratches. There was a branch sticking out of one of his jacket pockets, and there was a cut across his forehead that was bleeding, but not dangerously.

“Hello there Henry,” I said, how’s my son-in-law?”

“Good thanks, Never better.”

He shook off the last strap from the parachute, then got up, and we went into the restaurant together.

“How old do I look?” I said.

“I don’t know,” said Henry. “You look grown.”

“Interesting. I suppose that’s true. I’m fifty. Fifty today.”

“Are you? You look like you might be one of my friends.”

We placed orders, picking from a video menu built into the table. The table showed them their food being prepped in the back, and a small progress bar filled up from left to right.

We could see the meal being called to the cooks. 10%.

Then we watched as the cooks put their meals on. 20%.

Our steaks and eggs cooked and were flipped as the waffles went onto the iron. 30%.

Someone set up our plates on a tray. 40%.

One plate went down. 50%.

Another plate went down. 60%.

Waffles came off the iron and were plated. 70% and 80%.

The coffee finished brewing. 90%.

Coffee was poured up. 100%.

Then someone picked up the tray and headed out to meet us. Before the food hit the table, I watched as my bank account was hit for the total.

We dug in.

Henry allowed the cut on his head to continue to bleed.

We bit into our perfect steaks and ate our waffles.

A small trickle landed on Henry’s shirt.

I reached out and wiped Henry’s forehead. Henry applied a small stick to the cut. It looked like a small chapstick, and the cut healed over.

Henry stood up, and we faced each other.

I cleaned him up, removed the sticks and brush from him, and tended his other wounds.

Then I grabbed Henry in a massive bear hug.

“My son.”

They left the restaurant, and on our way back out to the cars, I stopped.

“I wanted to give this to you.”

“What’s this?”

I handed him a small card.

Henry took it.

“It’s a cash card.”

“How much is on it?”

“Enough to get you going.”

“How much?”

“Check it out yourself.”

Henry turned to a kiosk by the door and scanned the card.

“Please activate this card,” said a voice.

Henry pressed the activate button.

“Choose a pin,” said the voice.

Henry punched one in.

“Thank you,” said the voice. “Processing.”

A moment later, there was a ding, and the process was over.

Henry checked the screen for the balance.

“Are you serious?”

I kept silent.

“Sir?”

Henry pocketed the card.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Take care of my daughter. Don’t cheat on her. Don’t be an ass. Makeup after fights. Enjoy your life. Make sure you do something interesting with your life.”

“I can’t thank you enough.”

“I think you’ll have enough opportunities too. If you live as long as I think I’m going to, then you will have plenty of chances. It won’t last forever. One drawback to living this long all the time is that you’ll have to work longer, and the most likely cause of death is that of a deadly accident… Take nothing for granted.”

Henry got into his air car and pulled up into the sky. He drifted over the trees, and headed out, on his way to see Sarah again. He did it with a wave and a smile, as beaten as he looked by the quick return to ground level.

I got back into my air car.

Sitting on the dash was a card from Henry.

I opened it. A small dog was salivating over a bone on the front. Inside was a handwritten note.

It read, “I’ve drained the fuel from your air car, and taken your reserve can from the back. I love you too. See you at the wedding.”

I had to laugh. A little at first, and then longer and louder.

I stepped out of the car, locked it, and started the lonely trek to the next fuel station.

A futuristic medical office with glowing health displays. A doctor hands a patient a small pill while a digital screen behind them displays an extended lifespan, symbolizing advancements in longevity.

Longevity, Chapter 2: 2025

Longevity and Other Stories
A life without end,
stars call from the endless night,
time slips through our hands.
Buy Yours Here:
Amazon - Books2Read

This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Longevity and Other Stories. If you are daring, why not subscribe to my newsletter (they come few and far between), and I’ll send you a PDF copy of the book?

I’m getting married tomorrow. I know it’s hardly the time for a routine checkup, but It’s been on my radar for the last couple of months, and I wanted to get it over with before we went on our honeymoon. Marla and I are going to go on a tour of Mexico. We wanted to go on the rocket that shoots passengers on a five-day cruise around the moon and back, but we couldn’t swing it. We’ll have to try for that on an anniversary or something.

I’ve rarely been sick, but I don’t like the look in my doctor’s eyes. He’s got some kind of news to tell me, but I’m uncertain what it is. The truth is he’s breaking up with his wife, who runs a small bookstore in the mall next door to this office, but it’s still a lot of me me me, and I think that’s all it’s about. I don’t know his wife very well, but she seems nice enough. I hope they work it out and stay together.

My fiance and I are packed and ready to go. I’ve been living in our little one-bedroom apartment for the last three months, but she picked out all the furniture. I wanted to go, but couldn’t get out of the day job long enough. It’s hard enough putting in the regular sixty hours a week. I couldn’t imagine doing like some in the office are and being there seventy, eighty hours a week. I can’t figure out when those guys ever sleep.

He’s kept me waiting for a while now. At this office, they like to pull you back as early as they can, even if you come in without an appointment, but sometimes you can wait in the exam room for half an hour before they come and take your blood pressure. They’ve already done that, so all I’m waiting for is him. He’s not exactly a talker or anything, but I thought he’d have more to say.

There was a knock, and he entered the room.

“Jacob?”

He peeked in.

“Yes, hello,” I said.

“Getting married, are we?”

He came into the room and took his place. It was a short roving stool, and he liked to push around with it. He’d swing over to pick something up, and then swing back to drop it off again, and he always carried a cup of coffee in his hand. Since the day I first met him, he was carrying it.

“Yeah, well…” I said.

“Not to be taken lightly.” He pushed a pen around on a small clipboard.

“I know.”

He flipped through some papers. His office had gone digital about five years ago, but he never got the memo. He still made everyone keep everything on paper for him. He didn’t know it, all the information was on the Internet all the time now, but whenever he had an appointment, his staff would print up all the records for the day to hand to him.

There was a knock at the exam room door.

“Yes?” said the doc.

A short, round face popped in through the door after it cracked open. “Doctor, you have a visit from the drug rep. He’s got a…”

“Tell him I’m with a patient, please.”

“He’s on your desk phone now.”

“Then go wave at him and tell him he’ll have to wait his turn.” He waved my freshly printed file at her and she popped back out.

“I hate that guy, and I hate that video thing.”

“Don’t like them?”

“They’ve been around for years, but I just don’t like them. You have to be able to roll your eyes sometimes when you talk to idiots on the phone, and he counts as one. Call me up on the video… I can’t even get a regular cell phone anymore.”

“I know.”

“Damn thing is less a phone and more a computer with a program on it that answers the phone for you. Ah well. At least we don’t deal with the phone companies anymore.”

“True, they all became Internet service providers, didn’t they?”

He looks over my chart again and grumbles to himself.

“I don’t know why I became a doctor anymore.”

“Why is that?”

“Because there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“What?”

“I know you wanted to hear something. I could tell you that your sugar was off, and we might want to think about pre-diabetes prevention, or you might have high blood pressure as your father did, but that’s just not the case.”

“Hmm.”

“I’ve looked over your chart a hundred times, and what it boils down to is that you are perfectly fine.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not for you. For me, it’s a tragedy, because all my patients have been slowly getting healthier and healthier every year for a while now. I’ve had less and less to do. It’s been so long since any of my patients had an actual disease. I can’t even remember when I last saw one.”

“What about injuries, sprains, that kind of thing?”

“The remedies are too fast.”

I had to think about that one.

“Yeah, the remedies are too fast,” he said again. “Guy comes in with a sprained, hell, let’s say broken ankle, and I got this thing here.”

He opens a plain white drawer behind him, indistinguishable from all the others, and brings out a small black ring, with a pink logo on one side.

“What’s that?” I ask him.

“You put this thing on your ankle, and hit the button, and that’s all it takes. It shrinks to fit the person’s ankle, binds it, and starts injecting it with painkillers and bone enhancers. You wear it around for half an hour. I don’t even let the patient leave, just for my entertainment now really, and then we do an x-ray of it again, and the break is gone.”

“That’s amazing,” I said.

He handed it to me. I fooled around with it for a moment and gave it back to him.

“You can get one of these for about a hundred thousand dollars, minus insurance if you’ve got it. You just have to fill it up with drugs once in a while. If you’re fitting your bill for medical at home, you can buy one for twice that, with a larger supply of drugs to dispense.”

“That seems kind of high.”

“Not really, when you consider that it’ll heal any broken bone in your body in less than an hour, even the tiny bones in your ear. Don’t even ask me what we do for diabetes these days.”

“What?”

“A single pill.”

I couldn’t believe him.

“It’s sick, isn’t it? Pun intended. Here, look at this.”

He hands me a small metal device with a finger-shaped depression on one side.

“Tap your finger to it,” he says.

“What will it do?”

“Blood work. Nothing special.”

I tap my finger there, expecting some kind of a prick, or poke with a hidden needle, but there’s nothing. The surface is smooth, but after pressing the mark, the entire thing lights up. It buzzes and hums, and shows me a small circular logo, with an hourglass on it, slowly turning around, and a small silver progress indicator sliding from left to right. A moment later, it stops and buzzes again.

“It’s done, I think.”

I had the thing back to him.

He drops it on the surface of a small tablet computer, and the larger screen lights up.

“It’s transferring.”

“Transferring what?”

“What would have been about a thousand dollars worth of blood tests? Ah, look…”

He pointed at the tablet’s screen.

“You’re clear. Figures.”

“What figures?”

“Not much to do these days other than do some tests and run you through them, because we’ve caught up. At least, I think we have. Almost boring to be a physician these days, as I said. Unless you’ve severed your hand or been hit by a real truck or something, all we do these days is keep on top of your blood work, and give you the odd shot or pill, and even they are getting fewer and further between.”

He made a check on his tablet with a small stylus he had attached to his lapel on a string.

“Ah, good. I’ll get to give you a shot today, it seems.” He was almost about to say “Lucky me,” when his face dropped, and “Never mind, just a pill then.”

He reached around and opened another drawer and brought out a small yellow pill jar.

“I still keep one of these for old time’s sake.”

He pushed down on the white plastic lid and opened it up. In the bottom was a single, uncoated white pill, with a slash mark on it where you could apply pressure to break it in half. He brought it out, sliding it into the palm of his hand, and carefully broke the capsule in half.

“Here you go. You’ll need some water, I suppose.”

He handed me a glass of water, and I took the pill. I could feel the chalky texture sliding down my throat.

“Now you’ve just ingested the equivalent of all the vaccinations you’ll need for the next hundred years. If I’m lucky, or very unlucky, I might have the privilege of giving you the next one.”

“What do you mean, like a hundred years from now? I won’t be alive then.”

“Sure you will.”

I blinked at him.

“There’s no telling how old you’ll live,” he said. “I don’t know what you’ll do with yourself in all that time. Just don’t go jumping off the roof or something, and you could live indefinitely.”

“What, forever?”

“Yes. Science. It’s kind of a curse now, isn’t it? Enjoy your day.”

I got up and shook his hand.

“Now, I’ll want to see you in a little while. Probably not for twenty years. Set up an appointment at the desk on your way out.”

“Thank you, I think.”

He was off to see someone else, and I made my way out of the office.

I made the appointment, though I didn’t see the point for twenty years in the future. It made little sense.

“Mr. Andersen,” said the young lady at the desk. I didn’t know she was forty years older than she looked, but that seemed to be life these days.

“Yes?”

She made the appointment and then handed me a card with the date and time on it. I had no intention of keeping the card for twenty years, but I slipped it into my pocket and made my way out of the office, anyway. There were a couple of people in the waiting room that looked like they were in their twenties, like me. I wondered if they were going to get the same pill and be sent on their way. A lot can change in twenty years. I imagine the office will be different. Will it even be here?

I crossed the parking lot to my car and opened the door with the press of a button on my key ring, slipped into it. The dashboard lit up, and the engine cranked up with a thunderous roar.

“Hello Jacob,” said the car. “Where are we going today?”

“We need to go straight to the Tuxedo rental next. It’s the big day tomorrow, you know.”

“That’s right. Marla’s at the boutique picking up her dress this afternoon. I’ve got an email from your tailor. The Tuxedo is ready, they just want you to come in to try it on.”

“Sounds like a plan. Take us there.”

I sat back. There was a steering wheel, but I rarely used it anymore. In the center of the dash was a GPS and map software connected to the talking computer. It lit up with the destination, then the car backed itself out and started following the Internet-based instructions. After a moment for the car to get a full signal, I could see a minor blip of a dot on the screen, small and green for my car. A moment or two later, you could see all the other cars that were connected up on the screen as well in real-time. They were all purple, and the occasional red dot was someone piloting on a manual. The auto-controlled cars all knew to steer clear of them.

I sat back and read an online newspaper, complete with video clips and animated daily comic strips embedded, while the car made all the correct turns, got me onto the freeway, merged automatically with traffic, and then pulled me into the closest, safest parking space near the tailor’s shop.

I stepped out of the car, which said goodbye to me, before locking itself up.

I’d say it was a relief to walk into the tailor’s shop, a place pleasantly devoid of computers beyond a small calculator, but I was so used to it that I forgot to notice. If anything, I wondered what was wrong with the shop without really being able to put my finger on it.

“Jacob Andersen?” said the tailor.

“Yeah?”

“Come on back, I think I’ve got you all setup.”

The wall at the back of the shop was one big monitor, and on it was a picture of me next to a three-dimensional scan of my body. The screen was surrounded on both sides by bolts of cloth and finished suits and slacks. The tailor hung a yellow measuring tape around his neck, and there were loose sticks of chalk everywhere, but one of them looked like it had a little USB plug in the side of it.

He guided me to a small platform in the middle of the room and brought out my suit, which came with a printed packet that included all of my body measurements and a representation of my body.

The packet was three hundred pages long.

I tossed it aside where it landed on a nearby, and very dusty couch.

He brought out the suit, and I tried it on. They crafted it to perfection and it hugged every inch of my body. It felt like the most comfortable garment I’d ever worn. Tight in all the right places, and also loose in all of them as well. I almost relaxed into it rather than the traditional ‘trying it on.’ The slacks went on without a hitch, and the shirt, suspenders, and bow tie were all dashing yet comfortable. Everything was the correct length and exactly perfect for my body.

I wanted to hate it, but I couldn’t. It was just that nice.

I tried on the coat and swore that I’d wear nothing else until I wore it completely out.

“You’re getting married, right?” he said.

“Yes.”

“It’s nice, the suit?”

It was perfect.

He laughed. “That’s what they all say these days, but do you like it?”

“Yes, I do.” I pulled at the collar and shifted my shoulders. It felt wonderful.

“Good. That’s nice. Yes.”

He seemed distracted.

“You’re young, right?” he said.

“Yes. Twenty-five.”

“That’s nice.” He scratched his back. “It’s getting harder and harder to tell these days. How old anyone is, I mean? It’s like everybody is fifty-six, but they all look like they are between thirty-eight and forty-five. No one looks like they should anymore.”

“I know what you mean.”At least I thought I might.

“It’s sick, what they are doing, down at those hospitals, keeping everyone alive all the time.”

“It’s not natural, I say.”

The tailor coughed. I helped him to his dusty couch and stayed with him for a minute.

“Can I call anyone? Do you need any help?”

He waved me off like it was nothing.

“No. I need nothing. I’m happy.”

“Happy?”

“I’m old, and I’m broke, and I’m tired and sick, and I’m happy.” He coughed again, and this time, spit up a little something that he caught in a handkerchief and shoved in his pocket before I could get a good look at it.

“Seriously, can I…”

“No!”

He pushed himself off the couch and straightened his tie.

“Really,” he said. “I don’t need a thing. Now, get outta here and go have yourself a wedding!”

He smiled and showed me the door. I grabbed my packet on my way.

“Wait, I need to pay you.”

“It’s already done. There isn’t even any fun in getting money from someone anymore. Your bank paid me the minute you took possession of the suit. You should know that.”

“There has to be something I can do.”

“There is. Grow old. Don’t take their stuff. It may keep you alive, but you’ll rot from the inside out before it’s over. Don’t let your wife take any of it either. Be natural. Don’t live too long.”

He pushed me from his shop, with a little smile and a wave, and I was in my car. I did all the driving and headed back out to my apartment before I thought about it. I was already doing all that stuff. My doctor had just set me up. Everyone I knew was doing it. We were all about to live forever. At least, that’s what the brochures all said. It was just the way it was now.

I have always wondered how they ever tested it on anybody. How can they say it increases your life this long? It hasn’t even been out that long.

Marla was waiting for me. She looked younger than I was, but the truth was she was about five years my senior. Until now, it never really bothered me. I wanted to talk to her about it, to ask if we should keep on, but I already knew the answer. Besides, my next regular checkup wasn’t for another twenty years. No going back now. May as well make the most of it. By the next time I go, I imagine they’ll have something, a pill or whatever, that I won’t have to come back again for a thousand years. Who knows?

A futuristic digital notebook displays handwritten text on a glowing paper-like screen, with a fountain pen hovering above. In the background, a high-tech city skyline fades into the distance.

Longevity, Chapter 1: 2000

Longevity and Other Stories
A life without end,
stars call from the endless night,
time slips through our hands.
Buy Yours Here:
Amazon - Books2Read

This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Longevity and Other Stories. If you are daring, why not subscribe to my newsletter (they come few and far between), and I’ll send you a PDF copy of the book?

I’m being born right there, in that room. The surgeons are performing an emergency c-section on my mother, and it’s not going well. She survives, as do I, but there’s a lot of scarring, and she takes a long time to recover. My father is a nervous wreck, not because he’s worried about me. I’m the youngest of three boys, and he’s learned to handle babies just fine, but the idea of losing my mother is terrifying to him. My aunts and uncles are pacing in the waiting room, and we’ve been in the operating room for quite a while now. I’m told later that I can’t possibly remember it, but I’ve been told the story so many times that I feel like I do, although it’s been more than what I consider a lifetime ago, much longer really.

It’s January 1st, 2000, at 12:10 am. I’m not by any stretch to claim the title of the New Year’s baby, but I’m born so close to midnight that it doesn’t matter. The lucky thing though, or maybe not, I’m not sure anymore, is that as a result, I’ve never had a problem knowing exactly how old I am. I have friends who can remember the year but can’t remember how old they are without a calculator these days, but for me, well… if I can tell what year it is, I know exactly how old I am.

The family is overjoyed to see me when my father can finally take some visitors, but Mom’s in a little more trouble still, and the doctors are working on her. I had some trouble with extra fluid in my lungs and that didn’t make anyone happy, but it passed quickly enough, and I was a hefty ten pounds and eleven ounces after they weighed me for the first time.

Stamps were taken of my feet, and my official name was recorded. It’s Jacob Evan Andersen. I’ve had it long enough. They pass me around a lot. I end up in first one grandmother’s hands, and then another for a while as my father finishes doing all the paperwork the hospital requires. A few minutes later and my mother is brought out. She’s not allowed to stand up for a while. There are two IVs in her, one with blood and one dripping with saline. She’s lost a lot, more than anyone thought she would, but she’s in good spirits.

She recovers just fine, and we’re only a couple of days in the hospital, back when that’s how long you stayed in a hospital for the birth.

It’s an interesting time to be alive. Lots of good movies, and television. The ebook revolution is just taking hold. People are trading the soft and familiar feel of paper books for the convenience of being able to carry them all with you at the same time. Is that a curse or a blessing? I haven’t figured that out yet. It’s already possible to carry every record album you own with you if you have a device with enough space, but people aren’t yet carrying all their favorite television shows and movies around with them all the time. I figure that’s not too far off.

The space program isn’t much to speak of. There are a few more flights to the international space station, something I remember more as a collection of tin cans strung together with chewing gum and wire. As a toddler and teenager, I heard that we once landed men on the moon, but that we found little, and nobody thought it would be much use to go back after a while. There were only so many rocks you could bring back before everyone was bored with it. I suppose innovation is always faster when you have an enemy to compete with.

A flood of relatives visited us in the hospital, but not as many as I expected. It was quite the party, though. I don’t think I let my parents sleep for the first six months I was alive. I had help. With two older brothers, I think we all gave them a run for their money. I saw Dad really lose it twice, but mostly, they were both so cool as we grew up.

At the end of our hospital stay, they wheeled my mother to the car, an old minivan, and we all transitioned in. You’d think we were getting the car packed to go on a vacation. There had to be fifteen large bags Dad had to pile into the back, and after all the kids were packed in, and strapped into the various car and booster seats, we were off, our first trip together as a family. (At least with me along for the ride.)

We’d later take the big trip to Disney World, and another one out to the Grand Canyon before Mom died, but the big one was the trek up into Alaska in recreational vehicles. Camping every night, campfires, marshmallows, and anything else you could get on a stick. Those were the days.

I have been nowhere that I could build a campfire for a while. I’ve been keeping a notebook forever. It seems like little snippets of what happens to me. I used to keep it all online as a blog, but I was tired of upgrading it all the time, and since it was just for me anyway, I kept it in various notebooks, on paper. If you had any idea what I have to go through to get notebooks made of paper and pens with real ink in them these days, well. You’ll know eventually. If you live as long as I have, anyway. Hell, if you’re old enough to have found this manuscript, you probably are. I did cave in a couple of years ago and send the older stuff to a scanning store. They tore all the old notebooks up and scanned every page, so at least when you’re looking through them, they all still look like paper.

Opens up like a book though, and the facing pages light up and show you where I was writing… Of course, you probably can’t read my old handwriting, can you?