Subject: Social Insensitivity
It was a clean and friendly neighborhood with neat houses and happy families. The streets were perfectly paved, the sidewalks perfectly poured, and the trees and bushes perfectly artificial.
Subject: Artificial Brain Implants
“Don't argue with me, young man.”
“Your father is right, Martin. This is no place to be acting up.”
Martin Doyle looked away from his parents and watched the fish swim around the aquarium. He had seen aquariums before, but this one had to be at least 500 gallons; it was huge, and so was the office they were sitting in.
Subject: Robot Intelligence
“Your leg is missing.”
“It's over by those bushes.”
The night sky flashed, and seconds later the sound of a distant explosion rolled across the wheat field. Automatic gunfire tapped the warm heavy air; a maddening message to insurgents concealed in makeshift bunkers. A red flare streaked across the sky, and the ghostly landscape briefly bled long shadows.
Cross hairs from night vision binoculars fell on the minesweeper. From a distance, standing in the wheat field, holding the leg, the robot looked lost and confused.
Subject: Rocket Cemeteries
It was nothing more than an old cemetery. It was an old place for old ideas and long forgotten insanity. The tall hunks of metal reaching for the clouds were rusted, heavy, and surrounded by overgrown weeds; it was historic child's play.
Subject: Social Isolation
Ellis depressed the key, and a message flashed on the computer screen. It read - “Uploading Missile Guidance Program.” He waited, watching the ganglion of USB cables dangling from the sleek machine like thin tentacles, then depressed the key again. Another message appeared on the screen - “Uploading Remote Control Program.” The digital information poured through the cables into the drone's hardware. Ten gigabytes per second was its alloted ration, and after a minute the drone airplane was filled with enough information to initiate a small nuclear war.
Subject: Greenhouse Gases
DELINQUENT ACCOUNT.
It said so right on the order. Carl Cobb turned the card over to review the instructions. They were simple, but he didn't want to make any mistakes – accuse the client, disconnect the air filter, then leave. He had to be careful; one wrong move, and it could be dangerous.
Subject: Sterile Societies
It happened along a deserted open road millions of miles from anything, trillions of miles from anywhere. Of course, it involved speed. All accidents involve speed. Too much speed, speed kills, don't drive faster than your headlights. The equation is simple – speed equals distance divided by time; the less time, the more speed.
Subject: Sterile Societies
The DeLorean hugged the corner going sixty miles per hour. The sports car accelerated to seventy, then entered the next curve with abandon. The tires complained, and all four let out a painful squeal. One last curve, and the stainless steel coupe accelerated to ninety, speeding past the juniper bushes and the grey slabs of granite, pushing skyward from the grassy foothills. The city disappeared in the rear view mirror, and the road ahead lay flat and untamed. The DeLorean crossed over a metal cattle guard and chased after the setting sun.
“Nothing like an old-fashioned, twin turbo, gas engine with tires!” he grinned, his cigarette bouncing between words.
Subject: Black Holes
A stake tore loose, and the canvas tarp undulated in the frigid wind. They both watched as a man came out of the tent with a hammer and pounded the stake into the frozen sandy soil. He tossed the hammer next to the entrance then quickly disappeared inside.
“Morale is low.”
“This isn't what anyone expected.”
Subject: Distant Colonization
Morgan picked up a leaf and tossed it into the wind. It spun like a propeller, teased by the warm air, then fell to the ground quickly and heavily. He ran after the leaf and threw it into the air three more times. Morgan looked up at the plastic tree filled with the artificial plastic green leaves. On the ground, around the tree, not one other leaf rested; just this one in his hands had accidentally fallen, and to Morgan it was a gift that came only a few times a year.
Subject: Robot Independence
“Do you think we will get in trouble?”
“Don’t be simple. Robots don’t get in trouble.”
“But we took the vehicle without permission.”
“They are on vacation; they will never know. Anyhow, who would suspect we learned how to drive?”
Subject: Species Extinction
“This is Space Ark Noah calling United Control, do you copy?”
Silence exploded, and the small room was engulfed. Every last piece of technology, every button, every switch, every circuit waited for the response.
“This is Space Ark Noah calling United Control, do you copy?”
The monitor stared back at Mark Shaver, Ph.D., volunteer – Global Green Peace, displaying simple lines of static on a bright blue background; the transmission, the connection was dead.
Subject: Galactic Exploration
“Here we are!”
“Yes, sir!”
Fleet Cadet Walter Fogle, Private, 1st Class, startled by the announcement, jumped out of his chair and saluted. His book dropped on the table and knocked over a beaker of soup; the blue concoction oozed across the table and soaked a pile of papers. Fogle looked up, and to his amazement there was the Admiral.
Subject: Suspension Chambers
“You've been letting your feelings show,” she said smiling.
The man reached out his hand and let her soft hair fall through his fingers. She giggled, stood up, and ran into the trees. Caught in her game, he jumped to his feet and took pursuit, running through the forest smelling her perfume. Capturing her by the arm, she surrendered without a fight. He pulled her close; her breath was warm and sweet. She looked up, stared into his eyes, and closed her eyes anticipating a kiss. The man closed his eyes and leaned toward her.
Suddenly a rush of wind like a rocket next to his head, and he opened his eyes.
“Get up!” someone yelled.
Subject: Biological Warfare
Blue waves broke on the seashore. Froth boiling on the wave crests loitered, evaporated, then each wave in turn collapsed against the white sand – sand the color of clouds spiced with a scattering of cinnamon. The beach was long and beautiful and quiet. A warm breeze, a few gentle clouds, the soft tapping of palm leaves against one another; it was a wonderful place to be.
Unless you were Harvey Stone.
Subject: Time Warps
Alex Vance lifted the binoculars to his eyes and searched the barren landscape for anything other than sand and dirt. Then he wondered why? He wondered why nothing was green, he wondered why it was chosen as the new colony, and he wondered why he was there? He contemplated the ground beneath his feet and kicked a stone frustrated; it turned to dust and swirled away in a gust of wind.
“Stupid planet,” he cursed aloud.
Subject: Diabolical Robots
The rocket touched down, and the dry soil rolled away in waves. Heavy steam poured from the exhaust cones, and quickly the sky filled with the foul breath of the metal wonder. The cloud climbed and climbed, churning and ballooning, unrestrained in the light gravity, then stopped, as the rocket's engines fell silent. It would take three days before the air cleared again.