Tag Archives: sci-fi adventure

A grand space terminal with gleaming white floors and panoramic windows overlooking a massive cruise-like starship hovering above the moon. A woman in a sleek black dress and turquoise heels stands near a holographic kiosk, her luggage beside her. A moment before she vanishes, a man in a long coat watches knowingly.

The Monster of Blueberry Falls, Chapter 12

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?

“So, what are my options? I’ve got some money, an idea of what I’ll do for income, and a time to wait for Wen, who went so peacefully.”

“He’s a nice guy. I don’t know what to tell you,” said Barton. “He slipped. I wasn’t quite expecting that.”

“Where can I go from here?”

“Well, I was thinking about dropping you out on Earth.”

“What?”

“Well, More Earth-Two, to be honest. One dimension over the Earth is quite different.”

“What’s it like?”

“Well, it’s a lot closer to many other well-populated planets. They take care of their environment, they have pretty good space commerce. You can catch a starship or an intergalactic cruise from there to almost anywhere.”

“It’s as good a place to start as anywhere, right?”

“It’s what I like to think. If there’s anything you need or you’d like to ask me a question, shoot me a note or call me. My number is already on your phone.”

“Right. Take me there. How do we shift dimensions?”

“I do not know. I let the engineers figure all that stuff out. Come on, let’s go to the forward lounge.”

They walked to the front of the ship and after they made it there, and walked into the room, warp, they were standing in front of the Earth again.

“Looks like Earth to me.”

“That’s because it is. Watch.”

Before they spun the Earth. Clouds swirled around. On the dark sliver, they could see from here the city lights lit it up.

“Mostly, nothing. Very little experience with the world of, well, with the galaxy at large.”

“They don’t know we’re up here?”

“They can’t see us at all.”

“Nothing. So where is this other Earth I’m supposed to start on?”

“Right there.”

“But that looks like the Earth.”

“Aren’t you in awe?”

“Of course I am, But I was brought up on images of Earth from space, and I’m in a spaceship. True, that just dropped my boyfriend off on a crazy meatball of a planet…”

“Wrapped in Bacon.”

“Thank you… But here we are. What about this dimension hop here?”

“Watch.”

He held out his hand. She watched the Earth, from the corner of her eye, and with a vromp, everything changed.

The planet itself looked very similar. Blues, greens, and browns under a sea, under a layer of clouds, and a lit-up nightside. The first thing she noticed was the moon. They covered it from one side to the other in buildings. Steel buildings, and lights, it was a bustling place.

“Your moon there. Is the biggest starport on this side of the galaxy? I mean, there are a lot of great ones and just as many you wouldn’t want to get stuck in like any other airport, but this one, the moon, you can get just about anywhere in the galaxy from here.”

“Star liners?”

“Ships yeah, by the seat or the room, you can go anywhere from here.”

“This morning I woke up and thought I’d have just another normal day showing folks around our weird set of fake caves. I would see Wen once in a while. After closing time, he’d come out of hiding, but mostly, he was pretty quiet.”

“Then today.”

“And I’m on the other side of the glass. I’m out in the galaxy with my little bag, and we have to get somewhere now.”

“I know, it’s big.”

“How many others have you done this to?”

“What?”

“They could have killed me, left me unconscious on the fairground, certain no one would ever believe my story.”

“Yeah well…”

“You were kind. You could have just killed me, maybe sent me down to Bacon with Wen, but you’re setting me up. I’ve got a fresh identity, a new chance, and a line of galactic credits to get me back and forth across the void if I want to. But why?”

“Because in the face of all I have to do, sometimes I feel like it’s all I can do. If you want me to, I’ll give them a flip back, and I’ll have you down in your ok’d apartment, totally rent-free forever, of course. I’ll do my best to get you set up. But since you were so accepting of Wen, and the possibilities out here, I thought maybe you’d like a chance at this.”

“And I would.”

“Good, because it’s time to get out of here. I don’t get off this ship nearly enough. I’m taking you down in a shuttle.”

“What, a space shuttle?”

“Think of it like a badass minivan with no wheels, and we need to get on out of here.”

They dropped by Janet’s room to collect her things. Opening the door, her rolling bag was there, packed, and her shoulder bag.

She took her rolling bag and her shoulder bag and got them together, then followed Barton down the hall back to the elevators. This time, she went down.

“Don’t guess I could have gotten this lift to go down?”

“Not likely.”

The doors opened after a grief lurch and they were standing in a giant bay open on two sides of space.

“Force fields, shields if you will, keep us from flying out into space now.”

“Then I’m very glad for them.”

“This way.”

They crossed the bay, which was filled with a variety of sleek and chunky-looking fighters, busses, and Barton’s little flier.

It was black, and two clamshell doors opened on the left and right of it as he approached. “Toss your stuff in the back.”

“Okay.”

She put her things in the little vehicle. She felt like it was much larger than a car. Maybe a medium-sized cab top.

She folded herself into the front seat, and Barton got in next to her and revved it up. Lights came on all around her, and he lifted his ship into the air.

He worked a switch on his dash. “Barton, one planning departure, am I clear?”

“Yes, sir, the pattern is obvious. Please tell the Earth One lady we’re all rooting for her.”

“I will, thank you,” he flicked it off and polluted the incredibly smooth ship out of the bay. They left the larger ship behind them. Janet didn’t even know what it looked like and didn’t think to look it up on her phone until hours later.

They flew out and down, and straight to the moon. “I thought we were headed down to Earth?”

“You are welcome to explore there later, but I’m headed to the moon, to the main starport. It’s called Alpha Luna. You can get anywhere on Earth from there. And anywhere across the stars.”

They flew down, and as they got closer and closer, she could see all kinds of traffic traversing the moon in organized patterns. The ships looked like ants, then like dogs and cats, they were among them, and filed into the rest of the regular traffic, some ships looked like needles, others like meatballs, some looked stylish and organic, and others looked like they could be alive.

They slid through steel gray buildings, towering spirals of glass, and force fields until they came to Alpha Luna. It was a huge sun-shaped dome with eight points coming out of it, and it was fifty miles long, and five hundred starships were tethered, docked, fueling, or boarding around it.

“Holy shit.”

“I know, right?”

He pressed on and the closer they got, the more she could see the windows and openings. In the middle, at the top, was an expansive, bizarre parking deck.

He set down in a small square cubicle, and as their dories opened Janet watched as people came out to work on his vehicle. “No, fuel it up, yeah, but I need nothing. I’m just dropping off.”

That seemed to deflate the team, a young man and something else that to Janet sort of looked like a goofy canister with legs in a suit of overalls. “Thanks, guys. Come on.” He took Janet by the hand and led her out into the hall, which was closer to a king train track. Every few feet, trains that appeared to fly at lightning speed picked up people on their way in and out.

One stopped, and they sat down. There were no seatbelts, harnesses, or anything. This thing floated on a cushion of air and went three hundred miles an hour, just a blur around them. “Major terminal?”

“Just a moment, sir.”

They slid down mikes and mikes, stopping almost out of nowhere once in a while to pick someone up. Every moment or two a human, men, an alien, occasionally a vegetable. And at least one tune for a walking cat. He was seven feet tall and covered in leopard spots.

Soon the team was full, and a moment later they were letting everyone out in front of a grand entrance. Everything was white marble and bright lights. Through a massive downed window, you could see the Earth.

“Where will I go from here?”

“That depends on you, I think.”

“I’m in charge of that?”

“Sure. I didn’t bring you here to lock you down. I’m here to see you off.”

“In that case, I need a vacation.”

“Okay, let’s see what we can do. This way.” They came around, and by a table, there was a kiosk offering everything from exclusive sexy spas to theme parks the size of a planet.

“Get your little pad there.”

“What?”

“Your computer,”

“Okay.”

She swiped it, and a program downloaded it into the get system. “What’s this?”

“Pamphlets.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, advertisements for places to go. Little trifold things you used to see at the Florida visitors’ center, well this is the gem version. Compete with park maps and video clips.”

She sat down in a large swanky chair to flip through them. “Okay…”

“Be right back,” said Barton. “I’ll get a couple of drinks.” Though plenty of little robots seemed to flit about filling drinks, he went up to the counter himself to order anyway, keeping an eye back on Janet.

“Okay, star cruises, hotels, pleasure planets. That looks like a bit much for me. What about…” she flipped through some more. “Excursions, adventure, meeting new people. I don’t know.” She flipped some more, the light of her little notebook in her face.

Barton watched her with his spectacles, and three arms fixed their drinks. He brought them back and offered her a coffee. “Thank you.”

She took it and drank. The plastics were different, the lip edge of the cup, the size, and the measurements, but it was very good. Everything was wonderful, just a little off. She sipped and felt the warmth spread through her.

“Do you do caves?”

“I’ve never been a cave fan,” he said. “Enclosed spaces. I’m in enough of them.”

“I see. Fishing on Poseidon IV?”

“I don’t think so. It’s a planet-wide ocean with fish, and I use that term loosely, which could kill you in a heartbeat. Go if you are a big game hunter who doesn’t want anyone to give you grief anymore.”

“That makes sense. What about this cruise ship, the Starship Enigma?”

“That is an excellent choice. Let’s book you on there. It’s a week’s cruise and they go to different places, ports of call, and lots of shopping. You might like that.”

“How do I book?”

“It’s right there in the advertisement. Just click. Any luck, they won’t just teleport you onboard.”

“Where are they? Can I see?”

“Oh yeah, it’s right there.” She stood up, and she and Barton went to the window. “There it is, the starship Enigma.” It was colossal, definitely cruise-ship-shaped, but floating above the surface of the moon. “It must be the length of—”

“A county.”

She flipped the booklet open. “I’m going to do it.”

“Sounds like a plan. Send me a note when you return.”

“Okay.”

She pressed the buy button, entered her code, and then was about to say something else when she and her luggage all vanished.

Barton smiled, took another sip, then tossed his cup in a bin that thanked him for it and walked back out.

A massive glass-walled conference room aboard a futuristic spaceship. A woman in a black dress and a towering crab-like humanoid sit at a sleek table. Outside the window, Earth and the Moon hover in the distance, while a mysterious agent leans back in his chair, watching their reaction.

The Monster of Blueberry Falls, Chapter 9

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 smell of popcorn filled the air as they ran through the green space in the middle of the park. People were scattering left and right, police or guards chased them at every angle and for the first time, Janet saw a soldier, dressed in green, carrying a rifle.

Behind him, we’re three or more soldiers and a Humvee. It looked like they were just coming in.

“This way, everyone, we must evacuate.” It was over a speaker, Janet couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from, but she could see people were being gathered behind a barrier as the military was coming in. 

A drone, small with a camera, was following them, buzzing through the trees, low. It didn’t slow Wen down. He jumped and thrashed through the trees, putting as much distance between them as he could.

Janet held Wen close. She looked back. She saw a tank tearing its way through the park’s front gate, and she held Wen closer around his waist, reaching up to hug him around the chest as best she could without falling off.

The park security was still helping, running to the other side as the military came in, but they were rushing out of the room, and she could see that pretty soon they met the corner.

She yelled into his ear, “that way, get to the tower.”

He jumped into a pond full of koi, and splashed his way through it, then stared down the drone, smacking it with a claw. It splashed into the water, and then they came out the other side as a rocket shot from a tube from one soldier and past them, exploding the front facade of blueberry falls.

It exploded in a giant fireball. The entire entrance caved in, and she could see all those clocks, trying to go off as they were melting, burning, and falling. Then the roof caved in with a kawoosh. Dust and fire flew from the front as the fireball rolled in slow motion, and the front caved in, crashing down.

They jumped, flying out over a fence, and through a garden on his way through to where two older rides here were. They felt exposed, a great roller coaster, a rickety wooden monster called Whiplash Fever, and a tower-style free fall ride that Janet had only ridden once before. It went up a hundred-fifty feet, just a circle of seats that rotated up and gave you a panoramic view of the area. When you were at the top, you could see the ocean. She hated it, and she knew it would be the last, the endgame. They would get cornered there, but there was no place left she could think of, no clever direction, or a place she could think of to hide him anymore. At last, there they went.

He got to the base of the tower and another rocket flew right by them, blasting into the big wooden coaster, sending it up into flames,

“Come on, big guy, just one last to climb.”

“Okay.”

He jumped on the tower and climbed over the seats. Everything was off, and it was dark. Tanks were moving in, and keeping aim, but not shooting yet.

He looked up at the top. Far from water, far from everything. He’d come here from who knew where. His mind was fuzzy. But this woman. He’d do anything. He clamped onto a series of cables on the side of the tower and began the climb, with Janet up on his shoulder, holding on.

He climbed onto the cables, anywhere he could find purchase, and used the side of a steel ladder out here for whoever might ever have to climb this thing.

He made it up past the trees, and could feel the warmth of Janet’s skin on his, and hugged her to him, then went back to climbing. Occasionally a shot would ring out from a soldier, and several of them were using bullhorns calling for them to come down, let the girl go, and turn themselves in. Every time Janet said to keep going, keep going up. Don’t listen to them.

Before long, they passed where they could hear anyone below. It was just the two of them in the wing. First so many feet, they could see the surrounding park, now filled with the US army. She could see her apartment because they climbed and climbed until they could see houses around the park. Drones surrounded them. They all looked like they were just filming, but they also looked, some of them, like they could take a shot. She wasn’t sure why they hadn’t fired a rocket at the base and just taken them down, but she did her best just to concentrate on holding on. It was getting windy enough up here.

Wen swatted a drone getting too close, and it went teetering to the ground and crashed into the vase. They were already so high that it didn’t matter. When it hit the bottom, they couldn’t hear it.

About halfway up, the drone just sucked and backed off and they were alone. He climbed and climbed, taking her to the top, knowing when they got to the top, it was as far as they could go. Options were rapidly decreasing, and they were both higher than either of them could fall and survive. He trudged, carrying Janet, his love, until they made it to the top.

It was larger up there than either of them suspected. The top had a nice flat fade to stand on, even with a railing. It wasn’t completely secure, but it was better than being on the side. He climbed over the railing and he and Janet rolled onto their faces and caught their breath.

“This is it,” said Wen.

“I know.”

“You could have given me up down there and gotten away.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted every moment, I could have with you.”

“I love you.”

She kissed him on the top of that tower and held him and his clawed hands close as the sound of the helicopters arrived. They could hear the soft thump of the rotors.

They stood together, knowing it was their last moment, and waiting for the end, that blast from one of these black helicopters when one of them approached close and extend a ladder, and a short man no taller than four feet, with a thick brown beard, and a dark suit on, wearing thick reddish black goggles dropped to the roof.

“Miss Janet?” He offered a hand. He was smiling, and it seemed genuine, so she took it. He waved to Wen. “You are kind of hard to catch, my friend. Thanks, Barton,” said Wen.

“You know him?”

Wen shrugged. “We’ve met. Barton isn’t here to help us, you know. Yes, nice, but he means business.”

“I’m afraid it’s true. There’s nowhere to go. I can get you off this tower without you crashing to your death, and I can get you out of here alive if you just let me take you.”

“What will happen to us?”

“Well, big guy, you know where I have to take you.”

“Bacon?”

“Yeah.”

“And Janet?”

“That depends on her. If you both go quietly, we’ll do a debriefing with her and see where it goes from there.”

“Can I visit him?”

“At Bacon? You want to just go with him?”

“What’s Bacon? A breakfast nook? Probably not right?”

“It’s kind of…”

“Space prison,” said Wen.

“That’s putting it a little bluntly. It is more like a place he can be himself without having to hide.”

“Where no one else can see him, right?”

“He’d disappear, yeah.”

The wind picked up. The helicopters were getting a little close. Janet’s dress was flying all around her.

She hugged her crab man and kissed him again.

“Or we could just blow up the tower with y’all on it.”

“Shut up.”

“Take us up,” said Wen. “I’ll go, just don’t hurt her.”

“Good idea. Let’s get off this tower then, right?”

He smiled and waved to the helicopter ladder hanging by them. You first, m’lady, then the big guy. I’ll be right behind you.

They climbed the ladder, which seemed even less stable than any of their previous climb. It was rubbery, yet strong, and it held its weight fine, but the view with nothing around them wasn’t comforting. The noise of the helicopter made talking nearly impossible.

When Janet reached the top, Barton held out a hand to help her in.

“But, you were…” she looked down. He wasn’t behind them.

“Sorry,” he said. “I can do that.”

He took a bulky headset with a thick blue foam microphone and showed them a seat where she could sit and strap in.

Then, as Wen clambered into the helicopter, again, Barton helped him in and showed him to a seat next to Janet.

Then the helicopters turned to leave, and in the lead of them all, she watched out the open door, his claw in her hand as her town went by under them. She saw her apartment go by again, the store she liked, a shopping center, and a swimming pool. There were quite a lot of swimming pools. They crossed out over the ocean and turned. Going low, she assumed they were heading for a base or something.

She watched people on the beach, tons of swimmers in the water, dark shadows, and sharks. There were more sharks than people, but they seemed not to notice each other down there.

The strip of hotels and sunbathers fell away and became homes, big expensive mansions on the ocean, and more pools, and then she realized that instead of getting lower they were getting higher.

“Where are we going?”

“Up.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“Why Thank you.” He smiled at her. “Not long now.”

We looked out the window at the sea, then the doors opened in front of them in the sky. A doorway, long and wide, easily large enough to land all these helicopters in, opened wide out of nowhere.

They set down, and the rotors came to a halt above them as the others came in and landed nearby.

She went to the edge, with Barton close behind. “What is this?”

“A ship.”

“What kind? This is crazy.”

“You’re in love with an eight-foot-tall crab man.”

“I see your point.”

“Come on, they’ll close the doors in a second.”

Lights blinked on the left and right sides of the bay doors. Sir, she stepped back, and they closed her in.

“Come on, this way.”

She followed Barton and found Wen’s arm again.

“Up here.”

They followed him into a glass elevator and rode up a couple of floors to a conference room made of glass. They could see the bay full of helicopters, and other things she wasn’t sure of, and on the other side, the open sea. There was a large triangular emblem on the floor made of a slowly spiraling inward series of triangles. The tables were made of glass, and there was a wide range of chairs around.

“I’m in a flying invisible aircraft carrier. This is stupid like I’m in some kind of movie.”

“It’s not an aircraft carrier,” said Barton. He dropped into a chair by the big table, as did Wen. She couldn’t tear herself away from the window.

Wen and Barton exchanged a look, then they watched Janet as the sea quickly vanished in a single whoosh. You could barely feel the ship moving, but a second’s worth of blur later and they were looking at the earth. The moon was off to the right.

“What the actual hell?”

A small spacecraft drifts toward a massive black hole, its gravitational pull distorting light. A dying star collapses nearby, sending spirals of golden energy into the abyss. The lone astronaut inside watches as the unknown awaits.

Longevity, Chapter 8: 3600

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 hate new ships. Especially this one. It’s kind of a lonely place, pretty much on autopilot for so very long. I’ve spent years and years in and out of cryogenic stasis just to make sure the food supply doesn’t run out.

For the longest time, I worked off of what was in the freezers. Designed to last a crew of two hundred for fifty years, I lasted longer than that before I’d eaten everything I could stand in there, and some of the rest. I’ve picked at it for the last couple of hundred years, but mostly, I just tend the garden now.

I call the ship my garden.

It’s cool, and nice most of the time unless the sprinklers are on. The irrigation pipes can only do cold water, and there’s usually a short when I start it up. All part of the challenge, though. I’ve worked out most of the kinks and removed anything that got waterlogged before. I’ve planted hundreds of trees in here, directly into the substrate of the ship. There’s plenty of refuse that I’ve turned into perfect compost, so nothing is lacking there. I’ve also ripped out the floor in most of the rooms and installed sunlamps and started growing as much food as I can figure out how to grow.

I’ve got a field of corn on the third deck, and I’ve transformed the aquatic center into a giant lake full of cranberries. I’ve got orange trees, and I’ve got a good number of insects too to help me keep things going. The stings hurt at first, but I’ve toughened my skin with serious wrinkles and injections in the last few years, and pretty much nothing breaks the skin anymore.

I also started walking with a cane. Imagine that. I’m feeling old. I don’t know if it’s the abuse of being alone for so long or the fact that the air in the ship is smelling like stale, moldy bread, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

The computer at the front started clicking a countdown about a week ago. I almost didn’t notice it. The ship is moving so fast it’s almost incredible, but out there in space, you can hardly tell. Occasionally we go by a planet, but it’s usually only visible for a day or so. I got to where I liked to chart them. I’d record every channel of their television and radio, and take as many pictures as I could before we went too far, download as much of their Internet as I could, that kind of thing.

It would give me something to do for a few years at least.

I’ve probably documented a dozen civilizations in various levels of development. On a few planets, there were only cave people. On another, there was a fantastic bronze age going on. A few words were like they were in the 1980s. They never saw me coming or going.

None of them did.

The countdown, though. That got my interest.

I tapped the screen with my cane, really a dead and polished branch from one of the oak trees I planted in the main cargo hold.

A message appeared on the screen saying, “Stop that.”

I waved it off. The ship tended to do this kind of thing. As its virtual prisoner, I had lost interest years before.

“Jacob,” said the computer.

“What?”

“We’re coming up on it soon.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about anymore.”

“It’s fairly spectacular.”

I knocked on the computer monitor with my stick. It shattered the screen, but everything continued to work.

“Well, what’s that got to do with my tomatoes, then? Eh?” I yelled and staggered around. I started crawling on the floor where I had a patch of pumpkins growing in a bed I’d made of an emergency escape hatch.

I started weeding, with my fingers, just to show the computer something I could still do with my hands that it could never do.

I was pulling out some clovers that must have come over from another patch on my shoes not too long ago. When I felt it, I had been trying to grow four-leaf clovers.

It was kind of lurch in my stomach. It had been so long since I’d felt the effects of slowing down that I hardly realized that we had come almost to a complete stop. The stars don’t blaze past you when you’re going at this speed, so I could have gone for weeks without realizing we weren’t moving if I’d been asleep when the computer slowed us down.

We’d arrived.

It took the ship another hour and a half to move us around so that I could see the black hole that was currently sucking in an enormous binary cousin in a fantastic blaze of swirling light. Not that I could see it, just the material flowing toward the event horizon.

“Now that’s interesting.”

I pushed up with my stick and limped over to the viewing screens.

“That what I think it is? A computer?”

“It’s a class six black hole eating a red giant. Together, they will start a supernova in a couple of minutes. The ship should protect you just fine.”

“Is this it? What I was supposed to see?”

“It is.”

“I gotta get a better look than this, don’t I?”

I tossed down my stick and ambled for the elevator and took it down to where the life pods were.

“Jacob?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m just getting a better look, right?”

The doors opened, and I stepped out into the pod bay. There were six pods, and I routinely used two of them, just to make sure more than one of them worked all the time. I used them to go out and get space junk, rocks, and meteors that hit the ship occasionally it. The arms were really strong.

The room, however, was a small jungle. I hadn’t done this for a while. I’d miss it, but I had to get out there.

The pods were little one-person jobs, about ten feet tall, and looked like little egg people with large open faces on the front where the windscreen was, and they were surrounded in the tightest brush that I could plant in here. I’d flooded the place a time or two and trucked in as much dirt as I could manage, and had made the place as swampy as I could make it. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that there might be a crocodile living down here somewhere. But it just wasn’t possible. If I’d had one thought, the place would be perfect.

Ah well.

Time to get out there.

I crossed the swamp, caring nothing for drenching myself up to my knees, and trudged out to the pods. They were also covered in slime and muck, but that would soon be over. I wiped one clean until I could see the original white and red finish under all the swamp slime, and opened the back of it, pressing a button at the base. The back door of the pod slid open, and I clambered inside.

I hit a small hand pad by the door and it closed behind me. Suddenly I couldn’t hear anything but the sound of the pod warming up and remembered again that these things were soundproof. I pressed another switch, and the pod swung around toward the door. This was no easy feat since the way this room worked. The entire floor shifted around to move the pod to the front of the bay, taking most of the swamp with it. Trees were flung around, and water went everywhere, and this was before the door moved.

There was a hum.

Then everything in the room, all the water, all the trees and branches, and all the debris, started shooting out of the pod bay like a pitcher of tea filled with broccoli poured into a vacuum. It expanded, bubbled, and flew from the ship, then I lifted off, and whooshed outside.

Behind me, the computer was yelling something, but I had already tuned it out.

I jetted out of the ship and turned to face the black hole. It was so massive and beautiful as it was picking its neighboring sun that I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. Vaguely, I wondered if I could starve out here just looking at it. I punched the accelerator on my pod, and then sat back. There was a good bit of room in here, though it was little more than a work pod, it was a little roomy. You could last out here for days if you had an enormous job to do, and I had frequently.

I zoomed toward the black hole. I was going thousands of miles an hour. At this scale, it was hardly moving, but I pushed it up as fast as it would go. I hadn’t done that in a long time, and while you couldn’t see much change in the viewports, you could tell that you were moving some. I was close enough for that.

I watched the fuel. It said I had three days at this speed. I pushed it up higher. By now I knew I couldn’t go faster than I was going and that just stopping the rockets without firing the retros would keep me at this speed indefinitely.

I chose not to stop them.

Behind me, the rockets blazed out and hours later, the lights flickered around me. Then the engines cut out. I was closer than I thought. I could already feel the pull of the black hole beside my original speed, and I was falling into it fast, and picking up more speed on the way.

With the last bit of power I had left, I sent the pod into a gentle spin so that I could see the black hole from different angles. Then the power went out almost entirely.

Dim red lights replaced the bright ones inside the pod, and it reduced me to life support only. I checked the console, and it said I’d have about three days at this level unless help arrived. The pod’s computer offered to send a distress call for me.

I declined.

Sooner than I expected, the lights went out, and even so, the oxygen and heat remained.

I was alone with only the light of the binary system in front of me, and no way to turn around and see the ship one more time.

A few hours later, that failed, and I was alone.

From there, I just fell.

There was no power.

It was me and the stars, and I saw a little twinkle.

It wasn’t much, just a flash really between the star and the black hole in front of me. I couldn’t tell quite what it was, but I could tell that it was some kind of ship, hovering there.

“Now that’s interesting,” I said and promptly lost consciousness from the sheer cold of space around me and the fact that I’d depleted almost all the oxygen that was left in the little cabin.

I didn’t expect to awaken ever again.

I closed my eyes, and hit the floor, but didn’t hit because gravity failed and I was floating there in the middle of the pod when it fell into the gravitational power of the black hole for eternity three days later.

When I opened my eyes, it was so bright I couldn’t see.

I felt like I was lying on a hill covered in perfectly cut grass, the smell of the recent clippings getting into my nose.

I felt peaceful and serene.

I let the light of the sun or a moon or some distant star I didn’t know play on the back of my eyelids.

There was no pain in my body.

I was home.

On the ship, now a lifetime and a million miles away from me, the computer was calling my name. It had a syringe for me. A bi-centennial booster, it was offering to extend my life another umpteen years.

There was no one to take it, and no one to tell the computer to put it away, either. Eventually, it ran itself out of power, asking if I’d like the shot before it too fell into the black hole and out of the universe with me.

With a breath that was sweet and invigorating, I opened my eyes.

A futuristic Martian colony under a massive glass dome, with a lone astronaut standing at the edge of an excavation site. A golden, alien hatch is partially unearthed in the red desert rock, hinting at a mysterious discovery beneath the surface.

Longevity, Chapter 6: 2400

Longevity and Other Stories
A life without end,
stars call from the endless night,
time slips through our hands.
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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 was still a crude settlement, but we all loved it. The Mars 4 landing site. Red ugly desert as far as the eye could see, but we’d built this town here, hadn’t we? What used to be a stand-alone rocket site with a couple of disused landers and half a dozen robotic rovers had turned into a bustling town. Of course, it was all under domes and that kind of thing, because you still couldn’t breathe out there, but it was still interesting to see the planets. Coming from an age when going to another planet, even in our solar system, was practically impossible. I’ve now seen Titan. I’ve done Saturn, and I’ve also been on a cruise around Jupiter. That one was pretty good.

I met my third wife on that trip. We called it the trip of a lifetime, and here I am, moving to Mars on my own. She died earlier this month, some kind of infection that the shot didn’t fend off, and I just sold everything. The stuff they wouldn’t take, I boxed up and sent away to charities and auctions. If I could get a dollar for it, then I did. I didn’t care, but I got the ticket. They don’t even put you under for the trip anymore. It’s that fast. I swear it was like a light shuttle ride to the moon to get here. I think besides the fact that the jet lag on a trip like this can put you into a coma if you’re not careful, the strangest part was watching the earth disappear on the monitors and then watching as Mars blew until it was larger than life.

We landed, everything was just fine, about an hour ago, and I’ll be interested to see the apartment that I’ve selected. Everyone gets this big package before they buy into this place, it’s almost like one of those packets they used to get you to sign off on when they wanted to sell you a time-share or something, and the sell is about that hard, but I knew what I was doing, and was already going to buy before I got there. I wanted to get off the Earth again. I joke I was born on Earth, but that nobody who was ever born on Earth will ever die there now. It’s just too easy to get around. Moving to the moon is like relocating from New Jersey to Idaho for a job, and going to Saturn is something like a vacation spot. There’s a lot of gas mining going on at Jupiter, but Saturn is untouchable. You have to get all kinds of permits and things before you can get anywhere near the rings. They are paranoid that someone will pass a space freighter through there and tear them up. It’s like Saturn is some kind of behemoth state park that no one is allowed to touch.

Imagine someone driving an eighteen-wheeler onto Old Faithful and unloading a stack of Chinese snack cups headed for Disneyland and then crashing a cement truck into that. They don’t want anyone anywhere near Saturn. Ever. At least not anymore.

The apartment is pleasant, if sparse, and it came furnished, so I didn’t have to do anything about that. I brought some clothes with me, but all I want to do is log in on the table and see what my brother is up to. I check my bank accounts, and where there used to be nothing sits a pile of cash that I never spend. I have so few needs, and so few want anymore. The apartment is paid for, so I’ll have it. I think for about one hundred ninety-nine years before the contract runs out. With any luck, I’ll die before that’s over, but the way things are going, I just don’t expect that to be the case. I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow. With any luck, I’ll have contracted a deadly disease or something. All I want is something to challenge my doctor a bit. It’s been so long since he had to treat anyone for anything that I think he’s just plain bored.

I heard that he’d taken up jet snow skiing, but I can’t confirm that. He won’t put pictures of that up on his profile, so naturally, I can’t confirm it.

I go out onto the veranda, something I paid extra for. Too many of these units face inward, and I didn’t see the point in doing that. There the view is a view of the rest of the city, up under the dome. It’s about thirty miles wide, and I’m in a sea of other little white stone high-rises that comprise much of my district. In the distance, you can see the red landscape of mars, and to the south, there is a magnificent canyon that you can don breathing gear and go climb in, but the real view is of the city at night and the glow of the desert under Phobos and Deimos above us. They aren’t more real than great potatoes in the sky, but I love them.

I hate the kitchen. It’s almost impossible to grow anything here, and all the food is synthesized, but it comes out okay, I guess. You tell the kitchen what you want and it cooks it for you. For another hundred thousand, the kitchen will provide you with synthesized raw ingredients and the means to mix and bake them for yourself. It’s all made of the same protein gel stuff, but I think I’m going to upgrade my kitchen next year. It all smells good, but it tastes like cardboard.

I also paid for the robot butler.

That was a serious waste of money that I won’t even get into.

I turn on the wall so I can dial up my doctor.

The wall finishes booting up, and there on the screen is a large waterfall, surrounded by a lush green hill. I punch in the numbers on a keyboard that’s built into my table, and after a moment, my old doctor’s office appears. He’s not there anymore. I haven’t gotten used to that.

Hovering on the screen is a small spherical robot.

“How are we feeling today, Jacob?” says the little robot. Its eyes blink and a flash of light forms a mouth on what’s almost just a screen for a face. It blinks at me and seems to cock its head slightly, but I realize that it’s just rotating its face within the unmoving screen on the hovering little ball.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” I say.

“Of course, everything will be perfectly fine. I’ve got your record up here now.”

“Where is it?”

“In my mind. I can see your entire work-up right now.”

“And what do you see?”

“I see it is time for your next dose.”

A small slit opens up in the table, and a syringe rises filled with a bright pink liquid. Vibrant in the stark white of the surrounding apartment.

“Must I?” I give the syringe a sideways glance.

“Your health is optimal. You have very infrequent injuries, and your rate of healing has declined little since you took your first dose so many years ago. This is a fresh batch, however.”

“What’s different about this one?” I pick it up. I’ve never seen it so clear and bright. It’s usually kind of dirty pink color, but this time it just seems to sing as I touch it.

“This is what we’re calling the last dose.”

“I’ll never have to take one again?”

“They might give you a slight boost if you break your arm or brain yourself somehow resulting in a hospital stay, but otherwise, yes, this is the last dose. You don’t have to take it.”

I take the syringe. “Anywhere will do?”

“We like to use the thigh, but no, it doesn’t matter.”

“I thought you might send a robot or something to do the job.”

“We thought about that, discussed it, but the implications are much too serious. Do it yourself.”

“Why?”

“Because outside of major injury that might lead to death, and that’s preventable these days, this serum will make you completely immortal. And it’s no longer covered by insurance.”

“It’s not?”

“No, what would the point be of insuring you if there was no longer a real chance of death? Shall we do it? You could put it back on the table. I’ll retract it, and no payment will need to be made.”

“If I say yes?”

“Then I’ll make sure to check your credit first, of course.”

“Of course. Let’s do it.”

“Okay, I’ll start the process…” but I was already plunging the needle into my skin and powering the liquid into my body.

I fell to my knees, then my face hit the floor.

I couldn’t move.

Above me, the robot was blathering on about credit scores and that due to my recent move to Mars I no longer qualified. I was sorry, but could I place the syringe back on the table now until we could secure the proper payment?

I remembered little after that.

The blackness came and when life swirled back into my body, I awoke in a small cell. It was lined with the same white walls that were in my apartment, but it was a jail cell, with a self-lowering bunk in the wall, a small desk, and a chair that wasn’t so much bolted to the floor as it was part of the surface of the floor extruded into a chair-like form.

I checked the computer on the table if there was a flat surface anywhere, it was available as a computer screen, and my credit had been reduced to a negative number. I was effectively owned by my doctor’s office until payment was completed. I didn’t have any ties. I was on my own. Who would miss me? I realized I didn’t even care. I checked the computer again and found that I was on duty for digging Martian rock for the next three-thousand-one-hundred-ninety-three days.

I let out one long gasp and then settled back down, turned on the wall, and watched for when my shift would start. There was enough time to sleep.

The next day I suited up, with about three dozen other men, all with heavy spacesuits on, charcoal red with mirrored visors and we went out from the airlock and out into the martian desert, with picks in our hands and spikes on our feet. I found I could hop and run pretty well, something that I hadn’t had a chance to enjoy yet. I could see it as the end of the world, but I saw it as a chance to regroup and work out. I might write a book at night with no one to bother me. Every day we went out there and dug at the rock for no reason that I could fathom until one day, at the bottom of a dark shaft we’d been working on, I came across something that wasn’t more red rock.

It was gold.

I scraped away a large swath and found a regular pattern etched in the metal. After a few minutes, the other men were together helping me.

My radio buzzed with a crackle from the guy who stayed topside. “They are on their way.”

This meant that the guards were on their way in a shuttle. Whatever it was, it was serious, and we had about fifteen minutes to see what it was before they got here.

We piled onto the gold square, now about the size of a car’s hood, and continued to scrape away at the surrounding rock. In five minutes, we’d cleared another few feet. In another five, we’d found the edge of what looked like some kind of door. A moment before the guards would arrive, we found the handle.

It was unlocked.

We wrenched at it, and the Martian soil blew away in the wind as we opened the hatchway. It was dark, and it was deep. While the other men were attaching a rope and beginning to lower themselves down into the darkness, I jumped. What would I hit? Would I survive? I whistled down through the air, falling with less force than I would on Earth, and landed on something soft. I could see the men a thousand feet above me, getting arrested and pulled from the hole. The hatchway was thrust closed, and I was left in darkness. I sat down where I was, looking around. I could see nothing.

After a moment, I allowed my eyes to get used to the darkness, and I saw again. The surrounding rocks were softly glowing, pulsing, and glittering. There was something nearby. I followed the lights, which were buried deep within the cavern walls. Traveling down, my feet stepped on gravel, which skittered into the darkness until I came to an enormous cavern. Sitting in the middle of it was a large silver disk.

A ramp extended, and stairs descended with a soft hum, and little feet attached to little bodies scurried down it.

I reached for a weapon I didn’t have and instead raised my arms to show I was no threat. Would that be enough?

They scrambled around me and shone lights on my legs.

I stopped moving.

They moved and examined my body.

I kept my arms up.

They crawled up and over my back and stood on my head. They knocked on my visor and checked their teeth in it, which they found to be hilarious.

I lowered my arms, to make sure they knew I was still alive, and they jumped back, then I was surrounded by the light of their little probing flashes again.

Either they were scanning me or they were just trying to make me feel like an idiot, I was never sure. They closed in, and then one of them took me by the hand, and they walked me towards the ship.

I looked back and heard them drilling through the door again, and the little creatures seemed to want to pick up the pace. They pointed their lights back behind me. They knew what was coming.

I stepped into the ship, which was beautiful and bronze, covered in flashing lights and computer screens. The inside seemed to comprise one large round room, a control room that was surrounded in little bunk cubicles for the crew. I saw several of them tuck themselves in while their replacements popped out and shook themselves awake. There were about seven crew members working the controls. About seven crew members were working a video display in the middle of the room that showed the guards from the jail, now on a run towards the ship, and another that showed an image of the hatchway we’d just entered closing up like a tear rejoins a body of water. The guards stopped and ran their hands over the surface of the ship, looking for the entrance, and then another one of the little creatures hit another button, and they all found themselves stuck to the surface of the ship as they were all electrocuted. When it was over, there were no bodies left, just dust.

They motioned me into a chair, which oddly was the right size for me, and as I sat down they lifted off, with absolutely no feeling of inertia in my body, and the craft lifted to the sky, through a cave-like tunnel, and disappeared into the reaches of space, at least as far as I knew. The truth was it was, only up to the moon, Phobos and back.

“They think you are dead now, Jacob,” said one of them without moving his mouth. To tell the truth, I did not know if the thing had a mouth, to begin with.

“Thank you, I think,” I said, “But I was pretty much all right with them.”

With that, he cocked his head and chortled a little.

Then they gave me the grand tour. The one who spoke to me took me by the hand and walked me around all the time, speaking quickly. Sometimes it was hard to follow their speech.

“Over here are the controls you see. It’s where we control the ship to move it around the universe. No, we’re not ‘Martians’ but we’ve seen them on television, at least the television that you remember as a child, none of that really exists anymore, I know, and over here are the sleeping quarters, they go all the way around. The part we love the most is the ceiling, which gives us a perfect map all the time of the night sky.”

I raised my hand.

“Yes, we’re here for you. No, you’re not in trouble. Yes, you’re special. Yes, you will be found.”

“What do you mean, found?”

Then I remembered no more.

When I woke up, I was standing next to a Martian gas station in full prison uniform, holding the pump on a cargo freighter that I was refueling. No one seemed to react to me, though people were walking all around me.

I asked what the year was.

It was three years later.