A Science Fiction Short Story

A Derivative of the St. Novilistricka Plan
©2009 Gary C. Gibson

It is the year 2310. Cyrene Slick and I have won the trial by whirl around. Bugwhump Gulph became the casualty of a triad media of desert operations when his role of three-play trisected on the whirl was stoned by the audience . The United States transformed into the Lovelock Desert ages ago. Global warming attrition of hopes and scale-down dreams drove us north in quest of a grail of the Canadian rivers. I picked up the pace.

'I feel that way about you Cyrene. When we find the rivers I'll toss you in first as the peace offering to the river spirit.'

'And I shall pull you in with me Patrick'

Walking across the shadow lands a myriad craters filled with pools of sand seemed to shimmer under the perceptible sunshine of daylight. This was a land without surface water. AIr floppy shoes with out-sized hollow polymer soles kept the scorching heat of the ground from making contact with the soles of our feet.

'Do you know what's above the Canadian rivers Pat'?

'The atmosphere?'

'Sure you royal farce.'

'Let me try again. They say it's the Baffin Land where the sun never shines and it's always cold.'

'That sound like Alaska plague land don't it? What Bugwhhump said was the last place the Merigos went before fade-out.

'Just keep focused on that volcano glass ahead. You are goin to have to walk cross that today before it gets really hot tomorrow. See the clouds high up moving away east?

I enjoyed Cyrene's company. Appearing toward the close of the 23rd century on Earth from the interregnum in the second general Martian war, I sought my lost girl friend Lush. She had disappeared of a sudden entanglement with an alien life form.

We walked for several hours without speaking much to conserve moisture. Finally I said;

'Cyrene, if we become separated you must continue on to Baffin Land to tell the people of the liquid hydrogen cooling project for the subsurface desert of the United States. It can be made to make the desert bloom green again. The plans are hidden in the year 2036."

'That be solar daft talk Patrick. You think there is water ahead?'

I have been in this Idaho before Cyrene. The door of eternal recurrence is located in that canyon.'

There is an underground pool on the other side about 100 feet north of where we wlll cross that natural bridge."

Stopping at the edge of a cleft in the volcano flow field, Cyrene looked at the narrow chasm's depths and said, 'This canyon?'

We walked along its edge for several paces upslope and found a natural stone bridge left by ancient builders of replicas. Quickly like chastised bunnies we crossed over and came to an obsidian door that opened before us of its own. In the complete darkness there was an audible wind without any significant flow towards us.

'I should step in Cyrene. I can't say where I'll exit. You must press on. I shall try to return on your way ahead one day.'

I stepped inside.

My immediate first impression was a rude surprise. It was the evil Lund Lud Sud; one of the most powerful of the Corporatist Universal ins-keep. His regal appearance was little touched by the florid red of single malt scotch used in excess. He is a very dangerous foe I would waste few words upon. The other gentlemen with him were of unclear etiologies. There presence here was proof enough of guilt by association for me.

Sud, you odoriferous parasite, what is your purpose at this aloof spot? I see no immediate harem for your amusement.

"My my my impertinent philosopher-such language! Patience my twit. Let me explain my present beneficence for humankind including you.

This is your first visit to one of the more exclusive locations in the Universe-our Galaxy factory plant operations Deep Field Office, and you have presented with such a bad attitude. Come over here and take a better look."

So I walked over to Lud and stood next to him looking outward into the Deep Field view of a significant portion of the Universe1. There were unexpected and significant operations out there below the sky box.

I can see some unanticipated Changes between several thousand galaxies. You are up to some substantial activity. What is it?
Sud replied in a moment; "Patrick, the red lines between galaxies are allocation of resources trans-dimensional corridors to redistribute superfluous galactic mass to better locations in the universe for construction materials. We have given a lot of thought into our p lan to better shape this Universe and not waste all the mass tied up in so many trillions of useless stars in putting out light without supporting rent paying activities. Corporate is about bring every living thing into submission to paying the ruling class rent for everything possible after all, including the rent to exist eventually.

Reallocating the nonworking mass of a hundred million galaxies is our first macro-cosmic step toward making a Universe of main sequence stars only with a perfectly planned, gated community of Dyson spheres in maximum density surrounding at an optimally planned distance each main sequence star.

Through careful economic planning for reallocation of wasted cosmic mass into new stellar synthesis of main sequence stars we have increase output of rent paying and population density of the Universe a million times."

I could see that some galaxies given a close scrutiny were in some way more orderly than the common wild spiral and elliptical galaxies. The planned community galaxies were made of stars in neat rows and all of the same size with equidistant spacing. Mini black holes were placed at appropriate intervals I would think to keep warping forms of space time active in order to offset natural gravitational clustering of main sequence stars burning brightly and evenly. These planned galaxies were not so easy to see because most of the light fell upon the sea of Dyson spheres surrounding each star.

You can't do that to the entire Universe Sud. Don't you realize what effect upon space-time your redistribution of matter will have? It will expand exponentially in some places and collapse in others. You must halt the planned galaxy development right directly Sud.Of course I realized that Sud would reject the comment.

"Our best economists have assured me that the five year planning for profit guarantees the viability of the development potential. We have no need for voodoo physics theories from you Mr. Voevoda."

Plainly there was no point in reasoning with Sud. Some prayer of mine from some prior time must have been answered right at this moment.

I was re-dimensionally reset by a panel of power and directed a supernova to coalesce at this location in three seconds before the multi dimension reset values depleted my remaining time in the Deep Field Sky box. It is a lovely view without the galaxy development work and the red lines reallocating mass resources between them. Last sight I had was the convergence of thousands of the red mass lines toward the sky box at faster than light speed making for a soon to actualize super-super nova, irreversibly.

My time upon the Deep Field Sky box fortunately was brief. With the Super-super Nova clustering in progress and the inevitable hyper-space dimensional explosion dimensional connections would be interrupted in the profound rumble through adjoining quark tips in the six dimensions beyond those of the standard for on the floor of Universe1 normal space-time. Three seconds was sufficient for me to loop through a cascading hall of dimensional mirrors to actualize in surprise once again at the command and control loci of Zerah. The Rabshakka was seated at a large round table with a rich lunch set upon it in front of the fifty mile wide curved view space.

"Welcome once again to Zerah, Patrick. I apologize for your quick expulsion from the City of Sacred Cows. We have repaired the damages caused by the treason of Senator Stilleto who let the battlestorm in to the barn in a manner of speaking. Tifft is unfortunately gone permanently, and there is not a blessed thing that I can do about that. She was a good woman.

Have a seat here and take your lunch. I hope your time on the short lived dimensional loop out of the City of Sacred Cows was productive. Did you accomplish anything?"

Actually Rabshakka my friend, it wasn't too eventful, except for the Super-super nova I set to explode at the Corporate Deep Field Sky box. The location was someplace in a void of low mass beyond Hydra-Centaurus with a view of thousands of galaxies.

"Yes, we know of the locations of many of the Corporate Plant management Sky Boxes. Let's bring up a few and see if anything is developing."

The view space was filled with fifteen separate views of sky boxes from extra-dimensional perspectives. Momentarily on became transformed into the tremendous white light of a Super-super nova sending the vaporized mass of a million star systems that had reached and fueled it to surviving galaxies in the sectors beyond. With a slower accretion of mass it might have become a black hole instead of a Super-super nova promulgated by the order of arrival and fast quantum fusing a nominal horizon of eventation. The empty space within enabled a shaped reflecting wave-pattern of sono-fusion in four dimensions.

"That's your work Patrick? Really quite a catalytic action I would guess. Obliterating a Corporate sky box and the associated multi-galactic development should be a bit of a stir for Corporate management.

Let's get you some more coffee. You take it with two tablespoons of sugar, black? Try the coho salmon slow cooked in foil under hot rocks with lemon juice and tartar sauce with a bowl of Country Joe's potato salad with mustard."

Sitting at the table with the Rabshakka eating the delicious food and watching the Super-supernova expand across space I might have felt some kind of elation at the turn of events that brought what might seem to be success to the moment. Yet I had cause to reflect upon the loss of a recent friend and the abduction of Lush, and of the brevity of life in general. Even while it existed it continued as a kind of disconformed anomie in which too many people entered and exited the universal stage1 without much meaning staying because of their absence.

What would life be if all we humans lived forever in the Universe as simple players without concern for any underlying reality? Would we be more than characters in a holovision production designed to amuse some non-human spectators as kinds of thinking phenomenalities?

Far too quickly the opposite fact was the reality. People lived and died with the meaning of their existence taken along with them to the silence of the grave. As I grew older the world has become more silent with the departure of family and friends, while the wicked ones seems to persist longer than life itself. That would be my own life of course, the yardstick by which each individual must measure the meaning of existence or experience of all others.

I said to the Rabshakka, who was giving instructions to some members of his staff who approached and left without much down time interval; Have we much hope of finding a closer approach to Lush from the Virgo Core?

"Yes Patrick, I am arranging that now. If we are to defend the Virgo Cluster free space it will be helpful to contradict the Corporate Control Cluster for a while. Lush must be in some way affiliated geophysically with them perhaps in a museum of role models. As soon you are ready to go, in an hour or so after some cleaning up-you look like you could use it, and with a few new items of information and supply you will be set on your way."

That Corporate Sky box was an abortion clinic of the natural universe1. I thought of the Idaho and Cyrene making her way through that dangerous moonscape northward in quest of the Baffin culture. How I would return to provide the marginalized survivors of the heart of the global warming crisis era detailed instructions for the Unites States thermal reclamation project was beyond my knowledge being so many hundreds of thousands of light years away apparently. At least I had the time to contemplate the several threads of the quest that were Josephson junctioning me around these free galaxies.