Identity Theft and other stories (collection)

Prasp ran his index finger over that large tooth, and was surprised to find it wobbling, almost like a child’s tooth about to come out. Very strange. He pressed down on the tooth to see just how much play it had, and it collapsed inward, and then, as soon as Prasp pulled his finger back in disgust, it popped back out again.

But the symbols on the screen disappeared! Whatever Prasp had done clearly had been a mistake; he’d ruined everything.

* * *

Fourteen sleep periods later, Prasp, his woman Kari, Dalba and the other elders, and the rest of the tribe all watched in awe as something incredible happened. The sky turned dear, and high in the sky, there was a giant blue-and-white light, shaped like half a circle, set against a black background.

“What is that?” asked Kari, looking at Prasp.

Prasp felt his voice catching in his throat, catching with wonder. “What else could it be?” he said. “The Other Place.” He repeated the phrase again, but with a slightly different intonation, emphasizing the double meaning. “The Other Life.”

* * *

Someday, perhaps, the hunter-gatherers of Copernicus will develop a technological civilization. Someday, perhaps, they will even find a way out of their roofed-over crater, a way to move out into the universe, leaving their microcosm behind.

But for us, for Those Who Had Been Flesh, for The Collective Consciousness of Earth, for The Uploaded, there would be no way out. Who’d known that The Next Step would be our last step? Who’d known that the rest of the universe would be barren? Who’d known how lonely it would be to become a single entity—yes, we refer to ourselves in the plural as if that sheer act of linguistic stubbornness could make up for us being a single consciousness now, with no one to converse with.

Maybe, after a thousand years, or a million, the men and women in Copernicus will develop radio, and at last we will have someone else to talk to. Maybe they’ll even leave their world and spread out to colonize this empty galaxy.

They might even come here, although few of them will be able to endure Earth’s gravity. But if they do come, yes, they might accidentally or deliberately put an end to our existence.

We can only hope.

We are no longer human.

But we are humane; we wish them well. We are trapped forevermore, but those who are still flesh, and can again see the sky, might yet be free.

We will watch. And wait.

There is nothing more for us to do.

Driving A Bargain

Although my novels are exclusively hard science fiction, I occasionally write fantasy or horror at short lengths; indeed, to my delight, I’ve been nominated for the Horror Writers Association’s Bram Stoker Award.

My great friend Edo van Belkom is, without doubt, Canada’s top horror writer (and, just to put me in my place, he’s actually won the Stoker). In 2000, he edited a young-adult anthology called Be Afraid! It contained my story “Last But Not Least” which was reprinted in my collection Iterations.

Be Afraid! was a big hit, and so Edo did a sequel anthology, Be VERY Afraid! This story was my contribution to that book.

* * *

Jerry walked to the corner store, a baseball cap and sunglasses shielding him from the heat beating down from above. He picked up a copy of the Calgary Sun, walked to the counter, gave the old man a dollar, got his change, and hurried outside. He didn’t want to wait until he got home, so he went to the nearest bus stop, parked himself on the bench there, and opened the paper.

Of course, the first thing he checked out was the bikini-clad Sunshine Girl—what sixteen-year-old boy wouldn’t turn to that first? Today’s girl was old—23, it said—but she certainly was pretty, with lots of long blonde hair.

That ritual completed, Jerry turned to the real reason he’d bought the paper: the classified ads. He found the used-car listings, and started poring over them, hoping, as he always did, for a bargain.

Jerry had worked hard all summer on a loading dock. It had been rough work, but, for the first time in his life, he had real muscles. And, even more important, he had some real money.