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    Future Horizons: A Sci-Fi Short Story Collection
    Future Horizons: A Sci-Fi Short Story Collection
    Future Horizons: A Sci-Fi Short Story Collection
    Ebook58 pages52 minutes

    Future Horizons: A Sci-Fi Short Story Collection

    By Ben Mason

    ()

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    About this ebook

    From dark futures filled with hope to a boy and his rat facing dark creatures in the night, Future Horizons is about the human heart as much as it is the potential places it might take us.

    A short collection of five stories and around 15,000 words.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBen Mason
    Release dateAug 17, 2018
    ISBN9781386434382
    Future Horizons: A Sci-Fi Short Story Collection

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      Book preview

      Future Horizons - Ben Mason

      Future Horizons

      Future Horizons

      Ben Mason

      Contents

      Through the Seasons

      The Bottom Line

      Locked Down

      Picard and Me

      The Flower Runner

      Author Notes

      About the Author

      Newsletter

      Copyright info

      Through the Seasons

      10 years after: Spring

      I listen to the acid rain wash down the side of the windows without looking. They cover from the floor to the ceiling, and it’s tempting, with the view of the city streets below, but I fight the urge. It’s too much like looking into a tiger’s cage. Or maybe it’s like looking at a beautiful building long after it’s become a crumbling mess. The beauty of Arc Los Angeles, the dream city, reduced to it’s bare functions and bare streets. I think about the few robots with their strong alloy coating as they walk down the street while I sit at the table, holding my mug of tea, trying to wind down for bed, I breathe in the the wisps of smoke, ready to guzzle the stuff down.

      But first I need it to cool down.

      The lights have been turned down by Robert, his way of knowing what to do and when to do it. It’s one of the many little things he does to make me love him. One of the few things he doesn’t do is ask me if I do love him?

      As he walks in smiling, radiant, dressed down for bed in his shorts and nothing else, he nods at the mug. It too hot?

      And bitter, I say, wrinkling my nose.

      Robert laughs moving through the low light. His body is in great shape after all the years, his golden halo of hair still as lush as ever. I wonder behind those blue eyes if all his circuits are working. He stares at the couch, the far wall where the holoscreen, which functions but receives no new content, resides.

      The whole room screams emptiness with its lack of artwork and pictures. He is always on me to put some up. I fight him because all the pictures I have are of ghosts. Picking up the cup again I wince, rubbing my hands.

      They’re hurting again, aren’t they? The concern on his face is palpable, his brow furrowing. His thick jaw locks down in a small frown.

      It’s okay Robert. The second the rain lets up I’ll go out and get my scrip filled.

      Or you could stay in and let the bots bring it. Honestly Sarah, they don’t mind, he says, sliding into the chair next to me, scraping it across the floor as he puts an arm around me, gently. I think about the things I’ve seen him capable of doing with those arms and I wonder how he can stand to be so reserved around me.

      No, it’s fine. I like getting the exercise. And it’ll be safe tomorrow since it’s raining tonight.

      He frowns but decides not to put up a fight. You want me to put down the blinds?

      I think about saying yes and shake my head. As bad as it is, I like the night time when all the lights of the buildings come on, and for a second I think there are other people around me. As Robert leans in to comfort me, I try and listen for the motor’s hum.

      The day after you can’t even tell it’s rained. The sweepers–cute little green guys with big heads and small bodies, rollers out in front of them–are cleaning the streets, giving a little chirp as you pass by. The buildings which are covered in NuGlass shimmer and change colors. They used to play advertisements until I asked Robert to get the AI to stop them. Watching young kids scarf down chocolate fish and break into a grin was too much.

      It was hard when I was in my forties. Now with my hair starting to go silver and the rest of me starting to wrinkle it hurts worse. Because even if I was never going to have my own, I thought there was going to be kids around. Playing. Laughing.

      Growing.

      I see more androids then I did at the beginning. I guess the bots think they should try and keep humanity going one way or another. I think it’s sweet in

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