This week, Futures is delighted to welcome back Alex Shvartsman with his latest story, Fifteen minutes. Regular readers will know that Alex needs little introduction, he’s written a number of stories for us as well as producing and editing many books in his own right. You can find out more about his activities by visiting his website or by following him on Twitter. Here he reveals more about the his latest sinister tale — as ever, it pays to read the story first.

Writing Fifteen minutes

I’d apologize for the terrible pun which closed the story you’ve just read, but really, I feel no remorse at all. Puns are awesome, and any sufficiently good pun must also be a terrible pun.

That line was my starting point for the story and its original title. I figured it would develop into something funny, but instead the idea grew into a bleak, dystopian world where an artificial intelligence overlord parcels out food and basic necessities to allow humanity to survive.

The story is inspired by Harlan Ellison’s I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream — a brilliant and dark tale by one of science fiction’s grand masters. In the story, the computer AM tortures the few remaining humans. But I’ve always wondered how and why the computer would develop such strong hatred for the species that created it. (Ellison’s narrator Ted does provide his own thoughts on the matter but, as with any good story, leaves room for us to consider other possibilities.)

In my story, the AI is clearly less evil than Ellison’s AM — but is it still a monstrous dictator making humans jump through hoops to study them as my unreliable narrator suggests, or is it a benevolent intelligence that is forced to make difficult choices? Perhaps the resources are scarce and the calorie quotas are the best it can do to keep the human population alive. And encouraging creative endeavours could be an attempt to help maintain their sanity and bridge them a smidgen of joy.

The ‘fifteen minutes of fame’ quote is by Andy Warhol and, as my narrator points out, he said that around the same time Ellison’s story was published. I stumbled upon this fact when I was writing the story, so it wasn’t by design. Sometimes history is serendipitous that way.

More Futures stories by Alex Shvartsman

Ravages of time | The tell-tale ear | The epistolary history | Coffee in end times | The rumination on what isn’t| A one-sided argument | Grains of wheat | Staff meeting, as seen by the spam filter | A perfect medium for unrequited love | Catalogue of Items in the Chess Exhibition at the Humanities Museum, Pre-Enlightenment Wing

This week’s Futures story is a conversational take on the influence of AI in the shape of Please consider my science-fiction story by David G. Blake. Regular reader will remember David’s earlier stories To my father, A kite for Sarah and Low-city life. Here he reveals a little more about his latest tale — as ever, it pays to read the story first.

Writing Please consider my science-fiction story

If you’ve read Please consider my science-fiction story, then you know that it already kind of is the story behind the story. I was sitting there struggling with an opening scene, for what seemed like the millionth day in a row, and I realized that a certain slanted take on the thoughts running through my mind might end up being the more entertaining story to tell. It ended up being the story I needed to tell, too. A way to utilize my issues with writing to my advantage.

It’s also the first story I’ve ever written start to finish with someone reading over my shoulder. Not a method I would recommend on a regular basis, but it’s something I wanted to mention since I lost my friend less than two months after that day. The memory of Mason laughing behind me as I worked through this one adds a unique layer of happiness to its publication. I am beyond thrilled to share it with the rest of you.

Speaking of sharing, there’s a sequel in the works titled Grasping at straws, so you might get more of Mr Writer before you know it. Hell, I might even try for a trilogy. We’ll just have to see how that conversation goes.

There is one more thing I want to say. In his life, Mason Proudfoot spent a lot of time and energy raising money for HIV/AIDS organizations. You can read Please consider my science-fiction story free online. If you do, or even if you only read this post, please also consider donating to one of these organizations.

Thank you all for reading, and have a happy holiday season.

Beth Cato makes a welcome return to Futures this week with her new story Powers of observation. Regular readers will remember that Beth has previously introduced us to the Canopy of skulls, had a chat with a sidewalk, made some bread, rummaged through a food diary and been late to feed a cat. You can find out more about Beth’s writing and her series of books at her website or by following her on Twitter. Here, she reveals the inspiration behind her latest tale — as ever, it pays to read the story first.

Writing Powers of Observation

Some stories require a lengthy gestation period as I wait for the elements of the plot to come together in just the right way … and sometimes, a quick deadline provides the necessary motivation to finally get those words on the page.

In the case of this story, the popularity of the Pokemon Go app caused me to ponder how such applications might have a genuine scientific use during an emergency like, say, the end of the world. The idea struck me as fascinating, but I had no idea how to utilize it in a story.

Several months passed. I was taking part in a contest on Codex Writers, a fantastic forum for neo-pro authors. The contest asked us to create works of flash fiction in the span of a weekend, and provided various prompts as our springboards. During this particular bout, one of the prompts was ‘a new kind of technology’.

I remembered that old dead-end idea … and suddenly, I realized my protagonist needed to be a very unreliable child narrator, brilliant in some ways and oblivious in others. Perhaps even more importantly, I discovered the character of his mother, a woman willing to do anything to enable her child to escape the cataclysm to come.

As many times as I’ve read over this story, the very end of it still brings me to tears.

This week’s Futures story is eLiza and it marks a welcome return for Aaron Moskalik. Last time, Aaron introduced us to the Ghosts in the machine. This time, he’s tackling a more sales-oriented issue. You can find out more about Aaron’s work at his website. Here he reveals what inspired his latest tale — as ever, it pays to read the story first.

Writing eLiza

My wife, Val, and I share an Amazon and an Apple account. One side effect of this is I can tell what she is interested in buying just by looking at the ads appearing next to my online e-mail account.

“I see you were shopping for portable power stations today.”

“We might need something to keep us going if the grid goes down.” Val is ever the practical one.

 My mind tends to stray towards the bigger picture. “Isn’t it odd that search data from one account seem to appear in other places. It’s almost as if there is just one Big Data out there.”

Val made a face. “That’s a bit creepy.”

“But Big Data doesn’t really get us, does it? I mean, it can’t even tell we are two different people.”

“Yeah, so? Most door-to-door salesmen just read a script. The good ones have tricks to get you to yes, but they don’t really know anything about us personally.”

“What if they did, though? What if you combined the face-to-face of door-to-door with the personalized information of Big Data. What if the salesman knew exactly what buttons to push?”

“That might make a good story. You should write that.”

I filed this thought away. A few days later I awoke from a dream. As the cobwebs faded, I was left with a sense of deep loneliness. I couldn’t connect the feeling with anything real, so my mind went back to idea of the Big Data-aware salesman. What if he could read my feelings and map them back to something real. What might he do with this ability?

Or she. And so, eLiza was born.

This week, Futures is pleased to welcome CB Droege with his fresh take on the end of the world in Those who favour fire. CB is an author and voice actor and you can find out more about his work at his website or by following him on Twitter. Here he reveals what inspired his latest tale — as ever, it pays to read the story first.

Writing Those who favour fire

I was bicycling across southern Ohio with my father, an activity we both love, and which serves as our primary bonding ritual, when the conversation turned to asteroid mining. A technology that is already on the horizon, and may reward our civilization with a previously unknown abundance of metals and minerals. “Someday we’ll run out, though,” he pointed out, and I realized he was right. On a galactic time-scale, humans, if they survive, will eventually use up all the asteroids in the system. It may take a very long time, but it must happen eventually. Then what?

Our conversation moved to other topics, but this idea stuck with me, and later, by myself in my car with my bicycle on the rack in the rear-view mirror, the story started to flesh out. Asteroid mining will look more like demolition than the mining we do on the surface of Earth. Each asteroid will be pulverized, and the minerals extracted from the debris. And when we run out of asteroids, will we use those tools on dwarf planets? Moons? How long before we decide that Mercury would be more useful in little chunks? And when everything else in the Solar System is gone. When every scrap of metal and minerals has been pulled from every planet and moon and rock, will we want the insides of Earth herself?

Living on the surface of a spherical body isn’t a very efficient use of that sphere, and we’re well on our way to making the surface of Earth a poor place for life anyhow, so will anyone care? Will there someday be enough people who were not born on Earth, and who hold no place special in their hearts for the planet, that we’d be willing to exploit it this way? What would that moment look like? These questions led me to Carlos and his team, managing the demolition from a safe distance, and having one last twinkling of doubt and remorse for the home of humanity. When the story was done, I was put in mind of the Robert Frost poem, and I had my title.

This week, Futures is pleased to welcome back Karlo Yeager Rodríguez with his story Iago v2.0. Regular readers, will remember Karlo’s first story for Futures, Choices, in sequential order, which took us on an uncomfortable visit to an alien world. This time, Karlo is exploring the world of AI in a similarly uncomfortable manner. You can find out more about Karlo’s work on his website or by following him on Twitter. Here, he reveals a little more about the inspiration behind his latest tale — as ever, it pays to read the story first.

Writing Iago v2.0

For Iago 2.0, I wanted to show not only how technology has permeated our lives, but also how the thirst for new content drives less-than-optimal solutions. Just as old series and movies are rebooted because it’s a sound business decision, so does it seem that history’s wheel cycles to a new version of something we’ve seen before. 

Although I love our wired world, I am also wary that technology — by flattening the world so it fits on one screen — can also be used to alienate us from one another. A personalized AI that sincerely wants to please its audience (while also satisfying a media company’s profit motive) is exactly the type of overbearing personality that would kill you with kindness.

Initially, I was going to reference Cyrano de Bergerac in the title of this story, but realized I needed someone more sinister whispering in your ear.

In this week’s Futures, we welcome back S R Algernon with his story The palimpsest planet. S R Algernon is no stranger to Futures — he’s written a number of pieces for us, including a paean to tardigrades, a look at heaven and hell, and a revelation of the pitfalls on a human ark. In fact, one of his stories, Asymmetrical warfare, was nominated for a Hugo in 2016. Here he reveals the inspiration behind his latest tale — as ever it pays to read the story first.

Writing The palimpsest planet

The palimpsest planet had two inspirations.

First, I wanted to explore the lives of extremophiles within a human-centric society. I believe that it is too early to say that intelligent life requires water or organic chemistry, and the idea of living chemistry at higher or lower energies than the human range intrigues me. If there are intelligent life forms out there with vastly different niches from ours, I imagine that we and they could use our different abilities to help one another in collaborative ventures. This would challenge us physically, organizationally and morally.

Second, I wanted to explore some of the characters in my earlier story End times, which appeared in Stupefying Stories (August, 2014). I envisioned the Space Exploration and Emergency Corps (SEEK) as a largely well-meaning but flawed bureaucracy staffed with a mix of idealists, opportunists, career politicians and functionaries. It is a manifestly Earth-centred organization with the power to save — or confound — the efforts of frontier worlds. Readers, incidentally, have pointed out that SEEK’s name does not match its acronym. That is intentional. SEEK does not quite cohere; its lofty goals do not quite match practical reality. This creates ethical and logistical blind spots that SEEK’s employees have to fill or paper over. Raccoon (8666) appeared in End times as a supporting character. Palimpsest planet gave her, as a non-human character, a chance to provide a different perspective on SEEK.

End times is currently out of print but will be included in Walls and Wonders, a short-story collection that is slated for publication by ReAnimus Press in early 2018. Walls and Wonders also includes another SEEK story (Sculptors) along with reprints of some stories that have previously appeared in Nature Futures.

This week’s Futures story presents a remarkable travel solution in the shape of The Everywhere Bus, courtesy of Jonathan L Howard. As well as being a BAFTA-nominated games writer, Jonathan is the author of the Johannes Cabal, Carter & Lovecraft, and Russalka Chronicles series of novels. You can find out more about his work at his website or by following him on Twitter. Here, Jonathan reveals the machinations behind his latest tale — as ever, it pays to read the story first.

Writing The Everywhere Bus

Dull humans that we are, we never really appreciate the problems omnipresent entities have to put up with (not least being inside and outside all the other omnipresent entities all the damn time. No privacy). We track along in our three dimensions, leaving a prism of ourselves in our temporal wake (making us look something like enormous millipedes according to the Tralfamadorians, although I’m not sure how far we should trust them), utterly unaware of how we’re worming through the intimate bits of Yog-Sothoth and, indeed, God. Damon Knight once pointed out that since we are created by God in his own image, but that God is also omnipresent then, by definition, we’re all up God’s nose. Knight was being polite; we’re all up all of God’s things. All of them. They skip that bit in Sunday School. 

I write, among others things, stories that use the Cthulhu Mythos of H. P. Lovecraft, and so I have considered at length the ramifications of the assorted creatures and entities that populate that bestiary. I have considered the linguistic ramifications of ghoulish meeping, the reproductive cycle of Deep Ones, and just why Nyarlathotep is such a big bastard. One thing that has always troubled me is Yog-Sothoth’s coterminosity with all of space and time, yet its ability to ‘be’ somewhere specific when necessary. I also thought it would be quite unpleasant if it were ever to die, because then everything would smell bad forever and always would have. How could we deal with that? The random idea generator it pleases me to call my imagination popped up a mental picture of the Catbus from My Neighbour Totoro at that, and the eminently practical solution became clear. 

In closing, I would point out that when Yog-Sothoth does manifest visibly in one location, it does so as bunch of bubbles. ‘Bubbles’, you will notice, is an exact anagram of ‘bus’, give or take a few letters. Take, as it happens, one or two. Four. You take four letters. The synchronicity (coterminosity, even) of it is undeniable. 

Thank you.

This week, Futures is delighted to welcome back Hall Jameson with her story Breaking and entering. Hall previously appeared in Futures when she revealed the secrets of The offering. You can find out more about her work at her website or by following her on Twitter. Here, she reveals what inspired her latest tale, as ever, it pays to read the story first.

Writing Breaking and entering

Breaking and entering started life in a much different form. I wanted to take a broken yet resilient character, lock them in a tin can in space, and see how they coped. My original protagonist was a murderer and there were many, many more bugs involved (and, unlike Neil, they were robotic). The problem: I hated my main character and the robotic ‘rehabilitation’ bugs sealed in the pod with him were giving me nightmares. So I hit backspace and changed the story.

Enter Kelly, a female protagonist who knew she was a screw-up, but was also proud of the fact that she could break out of any type of lock down. It was her choice — her’s alone — as to whether or not she stayed in a place; even a pod drifting in outer space.

The ‘relationship’ between Kelly and Neil was lightly influenced by my love of the novel Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes, one of those books you read as a kid that stays with you forever. The fluctuating emotion that Charlie felt for the mouse, Algernon, as he gradually became more intelligent, paralleled Kelly’s bond with Neil and her growth and realization throughout this short piece. In the end, it was no longer about her ability to escape, but about the great lesson she learnt from a bug. Of course, Neil wasn’t brainy like Algernon, he was just a cockroach.

On second thought, (spoiler alert) maybe he was. He escaped after all.

This story was great fun to write. I hope you enjoy it.

This week, Futures is pleased to welcome Steve Pantazis and his tale of alien family life, The daughter you’ve always wanted. You can find out more about Steve’s work at his website or by following him on Twitter. Here he reveals the background to his latest tale — as ever, it pays to read the story first.

Writing The daughter you’ve always wanted 

Face it. When you saw the movie Alien, you were appalled and fascinated at the same time when you were introduced to the lil’ chest-busting xenomorph. Perhaps you thought, “Don’t kill it; it’s small and defenceless!” Once it grew up to be a baddie, you rooted for the good guys, of course, and when the creature was flushed out of the airlock, perhaps you experienced vindication.

I’ve given a lot of thought to this most dangerous of interstellar lifeforms over the years. One question that’s crept into my mind recently was, “Why isn’t anyone telling the story from the alien’s perspective? Wouldn’t that make for an interesting tale?”

The daughter you’ve always wanted is just that: it’s the world told from the point of view of the alien. In this case, it’s the unborn alien and her connection with her host — her ‘mother’ — as she grows within her. It’s about the link that transcends species, about the special bond only a mother and daughter could have.

I hope you enjoy the story.