FICTION: THE PARADOX LOOP

They called it the ‘Wells Temporal Interface’ but to those of us who “flew” in it it was ‘The Bubble’.

Only the forward portal journeyed through time. The greater bulk of The Bubble remained at Base where we could live a reasonably normal life, eating, drinking, sleeping and all else.

This arrangement suited us very well and not only us, it allowed every possible cabling necessary to capture every nuance across an entire spectrum of inputs. These could be accessed 24/7 at nanosecond speeds building diverse analyses models in real-time. Our intimate connection also allowed for immediate snapback if this became necessary.

In the forward portal all the exciting stuff took place. We six crew considered ourselves the luckiest people in the world. The entire historical time track of Earth was open to us to explore at will. Of course, our opinions on what and where to look were to be allowed only a brief window, the vast bulk of targets had long been chosen by a panel of philosophers, historians and anthropologists along with a range of other academic experts in their fields.

Above I used the term ‘flew’ for what we do within the portal and in case you are one of the few not following these activities this is because our location is always ten meters above the height of Everest as standard. To arrive in the same space as an existing object of any kind would be disastrous. Upon arrival in open space it was to be up to us to guide the portal to pre-decided coordinates.

The above describes how we understood the process and having great faith in our instructions and trainers we had no reason to doubt that all would go well. Perhaps a more sceptical attitude might have served us better, however, none of us could say quite how.

In any event, we appear to be high over what in modern historical parlance became named Nubia. This is beyond doubt an interesting target but it is not the target we were scheduled to reach. In addition to this glitch, we appear to have lost almost all contact with Base. I say almost and I mean 99% by this. We do hear the occasional word. Mostly though we hear only static. And snapback appears to be non-functional.

Below currently we see only endless waves of yellow sand, dunes stretching to the horizon. Access to maps is via the cabling to The Bubble so we must make the decision regarding direction of travel by ourselves. It appears to be midday. We broke temporal surface an hour ago and though we had a decent meal before the flight we will need to find something edible before the next 24 hours pass. The same holds true for water. We could certainly survive longer than 24 hours, but after this point our cognitive functions would certainly begin to falter.

The consensus was that we must wait until nightfall and rely on our knowledge of the star fields above us to guide our choice of flight path.

So it was after a long and frustrating wait that night fell. During those long hours while we waited we were at least kept reasonably cool by the thick filters of the forward portal screen.

Using the constellation Orion, specifically the star Mintaka, along with the North Star and Cassiopeia, we decide on our course and began to journey steadily north.

Below us, seemingly endless dark waves of dunes passed across the lower viewing station. Unable to access the living quarters of The Bubble we made ourselves as comfortable as we could in our flight positions. Hour after hour passed frustratingly slowly to those of us who could find no sleep, including myself. The flow of endless dunes below ought to have had a hypnotic effect on me but the stress of finding ourselves lost, alone and out of touch with the modern world had unnerved me greatly and sleep totally eluded me.

I must admit the dawn when it came was stunning. By degrees, the desert below coloured through every degree of red, orange and dark yellow. It was an absolutely beautiful sight and took our breath away, leaving us free of any thought of our precarious situation for at least fifteen minutes of the new day.

Some two hours later we caught sight of it, winding majestically like some great snake through acres of green, the great river Nile. We continued to travel north using the Nile as our guide.

We have access to some few tools that can help us, primarily access to our onboard computer and a library of infocubes supplied for our reference. Researching these for any clues that might assist our continued survival we began referencing data on a place by the name of Nabta Playa. Now as far as we could estimate from our original target data we were within a time frame between 3,000 and 3,500 BC. Some 60 to 65 thousand years earlier it was estimated this area had been a savanna during the interglacial period of that time. This however was not the most important factor even though it could mean a good food source could be found. The most important factor for us, which came from a mixture of intuition, desperation and sheer imagination, was the modern theory that the megaliths found at Nabta Playa may have had an astronomical origin.

So it was that we began our search for the mysterious stone circles of Nabta.

We could see that Nabta was located at 22.507967°N 30.725600°E and by following the contours of the Nile that we meticulously observed below we determined that we would arrive there in five hours.

You may ask what we hoped to find there. The sorry truth is that we were desperate. We had continued to try to regain contact with Base but this had proven futile. We were now at the stage where even the slimmest hope drove us. What that hope was would astonish you if I related it to you now so I will instead continue my narration.

We arrived at Nabta Playa just before noon. No human habitation could be seen. The megaliths however stood out from all else to be seen. We were shocked at the number of stones and their alignment. Central was a circle of megaliths with three stones within it corresponding to the position of the stars in Orion’s Belt. Also within the circle were six additional stones with no apparent alignment associated with them. Off to one side of the circle were stones in a clear pathway or runway alignment.

From our studies, we had determined that following our intuition we must by some means reach the years 6,000 BC and 16,500 BC. By observation, we followed what appeared to be the logical path provided by the landscape below.

Aligning the portal above the first stones we moved slowly toward the stone circle ahead. Arriving there we hovered in wait of we knew not what. Were we mad? There was no logic involved, only that mix of intuition and desperation I spoke of earlier. We waited.

A good ten minutes passed with the circle and nine stones below us clear as day, unmoving, unchanging as the seemingly eternal desert around them.

Then, almost imperceptibly a mist slowly formed between us and the stones. This mist then began to swirl partially hiding the stones from us. Suddenly some powerful uplift occurred which sent us flying kilometres high in the air above the circle. As suddenly as we had flown up we plummeted down again to hover once again in the same position, central to the stones as before and at the same height. However there was something that was no longer the same, the stones were far larger than before and more precisely defined.

Suddenly, taking our breath away we flew upward once again. The same sequence reoccurred as before and down we flew. When the window cleared this time we gasped at the changes we saw below. Each stone was now tipped with a metal sheath and all were linked by cabling. The whole array looked like nothing other than an ultra-modern telescope or radar complex.

We peered down in awe at the clear evidence of complex technology below us. Undoubtedly we had arrived somewhere around 16,500 BC after a major booster surge at 6,000 BC. What else might we find here? An advanced civilization? Aliens.

Slowly we became aware of several blurry shapes moving within the circle. They moved with some clear purpose and appeared to be carrying large objects using some form of electronic beam in front of them. Counting the blurs we made six in all. The large objects could be made out to be massive stones with the same shining tips upon them. These, the blurs placed very precisely within the surrounding circle.

Slowly it began to dawn on us what we were observing. Though we had no time to consider these thoughts at that moment as suddenly our connection to base burst into life. The primary controller was urgently and repeatedly using her call sign. Shocked at the sudden sound of her voice urgently calling us we all started in fright intent as we had been on what was going on down below.

Responding as soon as our shock would allow we coordinated the snapback procedure with base. Turning once more to observe the scene below we found the six new stones gleaming and connected by cables to all others across the entire array but there was no longer any sign of the moving blurs we had seen there previously.

Just then the sand below blew up in violent gusts and swirls obscuring everything from our gaze.

The next moment we heard the primary controller voice the words we had longed to hear all through our incredible experience. We were home.

The next few days brought it fully home to us what had occurred on our fantastic voyage through time. The onboard data capture devices had captured everything on film. It had become clear immediately as soon as analysis was begun that something equally dangerous and miraculous had taken place. It had long been held in speculative fiction that a certain paradox was an inherent danger during time travel, that you could meet up with yourself or selves.

It became clear that we had entered such a paradox situation, a loop in time whereby we had somehow engineered our own escape from an event which would not occur for more than 18 thousand years . Those six blurs had been ourselves fixing in place the last six elements required to provide the power to get us home.

This explained our rescue, performed by ourselves. However, there was a further question which remained unanswered. Where did we source the technology to do this? What possible technological know-how could explain the event we had just experienced? And who could have provided it?

These were questions that would only be answered once further trips were arranged when the glitch that had sent us there was resolved. And one last question… was what happened to us planned by those who created the technological device that had saved us? Was time travel going to advance to the point where we would create them all the way back then?

THE TROJAN DEMOCRACY DONKEY OF THE WEST

The western world has been the traditional home of masters of illusion, talented artists in the creation of seductive artifice that has long proven highly useful in the sale of products gaining them immense profit.

In tandem with this industry of illusion has come the heavy hand of the power of command with which to enforce compliance from others making them fall into line with western needs.

These two attributes have served western power and commerce for centuries. The first attribute has provided myriad fig leaf cover stories for its less savoury activities, an inevitable result of the second. However, in the internet age far brighter and stronger lights are being played over the facades still being promoted as western fact on both counts.

The shiny composite image portrayed as the “superior” western culture can be compared with the attractive wooden horse the ancient Greeks used to entice the Trojans into accepting what was portrayed as an innocent gift and so lose their city to invasion and in so doing lose the entire war.

The image western elites portray as the superior culture and systems of the West is composed of many seemingly attractive features. The surface is painted with the innocent-looking notion of democracy and a seductive gloss of freedoms and values to attract every desire as if every desire will naturally be positive. It can be seen very much as a Hollywood production as portrayed by western leaders and those who serve them. But a Hollywood made to serve an essentially political and military project, to lard this technicolor mirage over all other cultures and systems and so suffocate them.

And what is the reality under the artifice of this shiny beast projected to the world of western superiority? A writhing mass of increasing anarchy, of both corporate and street crime, of the insidious greed that spawned the opioid crisis and many others, of financial corruption and social turmoil where dogmas are fast overcoming earlier freedoms. Exports of cultural anarchy and pornographic license are being loaded onto the democracy trojan donkey being sold to the world along with all those shinier values now being advertised by elite PR houses.

The political and military backers and enforcers of western liberal values, democracy and freedom are finding it ever harder to hide the myriad diseased elements within the fake innocence and advertised universal utility of their soiled goods. Much of the world now turns a jaundiced eye upon their dubious merchandise offered with a smile and knife behind the back. Its attractiveness has been tarnished by the steady flow of blood from beneath its gaudy exterior.

The structure of the “factory” which produces all these shiny products so gaily adorned by its Trojan donkey is now decidedly shaky, it quivers with inner revolutions, divisions that threaten to tear it apart making those observing the spectacle look ever deeper into what exactly is being offered here. The Trojan Donkey being offered to the world by the West is in fact in great danger of soiling itself to such a degree that others will be increasingly called upon to clean up its now fast-reeking mess.

THE END GAME WAR - UPDATE

It is clear that a fight to the death is occurring.

Two value systems are at stake. One seeks the dissolution and defeat of the other. That other has no such ambitions but instead seeks to expand the trading potential of its people. There is only one set of ideologues involved in this struggle unlike during the Cold War. These are the fixed-mind ideologues of the USA. And though their words are disguised at times their end goal is the complete defeat of the eastern value systems and the systems of governance that keep them in place.

The value systems of the western world are considered by western elites to represent an undoubted standard that they consider it their duty to spread worldwide. In spite of accepting other value systems to some degree currently (not engaging in an immediate all-out war against them) the end goal is clear, their elimination.

Despite a now and again attempt to gain cooperation on this goal and that with the systems of governance they deplore these are always with the view of achieving a one-sided gain. The circumstances where they countenance even a small gain by the systems they oppose such as the use in the West of the Russian vaccine Sputnik V they will do all they can to minimise its success. All gains by the systems western governance seek to eliminate will be blocked except in very rare circumstances. Such gains only make their task of destroying these systems and destroying any and all support for those systems more difficult.

The elites of the western world will not give up on seeking the task they have long embarked upon. There is no diplomatic space within the western world where this possibility can even be discussed. It is unquestioned and informs every single decision and mode of analysis across the complete elite superstructure of the western world. All political and military power elites across the western world are completely aligned on this point and any hope of even the slightest modification of it will be in vain.

While many are looking to other matters, considering them of greater importance, more worthy of their attention, this end game war, essentially a final world war, it is hard to see what could possibly be of greater importance.

FICTION: TIME FOR HOPE

There was almost no light in the pre-transfer room.

The space was designed to have as calming an effect as possible. As you walked a soft glow followed you and preceded you casting its light far enough for you to feel secure. There was no need to walk far however, a welcoming bed of velvety softness was never far from reach. Ambient sounds lulled all those within the room’s imperceptible walls.

I lay face up, my hands cupping my head, drifting slightly toward sleep but embracing a pleasantly meditative state of mind. Nothing could be heard of the hustle and bustle outside, the room was fully insulated from that. The only sound beyond the music playing was the ever-present hum of the room’s air filtration system. These are of course ubiquitous now and have been since the first pandemics struck in the early 2020s. I was almost oblivious to this as I lay breathing deeply to maintain my thoughtful state and gazing up through the darkness above me.

The Brooklyn Transfer was similar to most others around the globe. Perhaps a little shabbier around the edges and the graffiti that was ubiquitous in New York had also crept inside what ought to have been a totally pristine environment. After all, there was no way that anything remotely alien should transfer with you from one location to the next. Not that paint or any associated bacteria could get past the flushing. But still, the appearance of a sanitized and supremely clinical space somehow created confidence. The mess outside that was Brooklyn was simply impossible to create an airtight barrier against.

I had politely declined most of the services offered in this VIP refuge. All except my usual chilli cappuccino which now tingled as it wound its way within me. I wanted to use this time to think in the calmest possible state I was capable of in what I knew could well prove to be a vain attempt to find a pathway of solutions to the many problems ahead.

The Mars Colony was in crisis. Somehow, no one knew how, a virus had reached it and spread to approximately 12% of the colonists. Containment policies were currently in place. The isolation of all those affected had been speedily enforced. However, the disturbing possibility was that the virus could begin to mutate and any mutation could potentially appear weeks later among the virus-free majority.

My disciplines were in military and biological spheres and I had been publicly tasked to make the transfer to Mars and once there take the difficult decisions required to resolve the situation gripping the colony. It was emphasised that my intervention was the greatest hope for a resolution of the crisis there. However, there was a far greater crisis that I was tasked to assist with and this was to remain wholly confidential.

My meditations brought little benefit to me. I knew I had to create some substance to my public presence on Mars and for the life of me I couldn’t see any substantive way to assist. Without a vaccine, there was little that could be done to protect the 412 souls remaining unaffected on Mars and with no known effective treatment for the 49 sick, prospects for a speedy solution were virtually non-existent. Virtually I thought…, not virtually, currently. Currently totally non-existent. Yet go I must. And do something I must. But what?

I had transferred many times and this time was no different. Procedures were standardized globally. Shed of my clothes the bathing proceeded without incident. Every microbe on my body was cooked by the non-ionizing radiation within the chamber. Of course, only exterior microbes were affected, my interior helpers remained intact and able to continue their vital tasks.

Scrubbed clean I followed the usual signs to the ante-chamber where a welcome warmth bathed me and calming voices related the usual routine for transfer. A mild sedative was offered which I knew from past experience was considered almost mandatory. I took it as I remembered well the fuss and delay which had taken place on the first and only occasion when I had opted out.

The pristine white doors opened to a darker space lit by a diffuse system of green lighting. Gentle music played. I lay on the transfer couch feeling reasonably calm. No matter how many times you go through transfer however you never quite get used to it. I could feel my heart beating notably faster though I was beginning to feel the ministrations of the sedative now taking effect. The voice which had been reassuring me now faded away to silence. It had been found that any form of countdown needlessly jangled the nerves of transferees and had therefore been abandoned. Thus, a few microseconds later the transfer took place.

I detected no change, as was usual. Imperceptibly the green of the diffuse light became somewhat brighter over a period of around 60 seconds. The transfer was over. I was on Mars.

After post-transfer scrubbing I emerged to find myself faced by a number of heavily-masked, concerned-looking faces huddled expectantly before me. Naturally, there were greetings of welcome and the usual social niceties expressing the hope my transfer had been a comfortable one. For this of course there was no truly appropriate answer but a positive one. It was not possible to inquire of my approximately seven octillion atoms how they would rate this particular transfer across these currently three hundred and ninety-two million kilometres to be reconstituted here on Mars.

I was taken to my quarters in the VIP section where I thankfully became free of the subtle stressors I felt on my emergence. This was without any doubt the hardest task in my entire career and without a shadow of a doubt the most dangerous also. Pondering these facts I turned my gaze to the one solitary window within the suite I now occupied. The window incorporated selective magnification and I looked with not a little longing at the blue sphere that hung there far off in the sparkling dark. Earth looked as serene as ever, a tranquil gem high over the dark blood-red sands of a now subtly diseased Mars.

The mission to Mars had been full of hope. A brand new venture for the unity of states and a hi-tech vicarious adventure for all of mankind. Any departure from the cacophonic chaos that was Earth just had to be welcome. Twelve billion souls, most of them cooped up in semi-isolation with nowhere to go were making many restless noises. The cars may no longer frequent the streets and highways as before but the ferment of rabid frustration caused by cabin fever was reaching its peak. Free VR had calmed things down at first but expectations that virtual travel, sex and gaming would be a universal panacea were short-lived. Humans were hard-wired never to be satisfied with anything approaching a permanent state, always seeking more, and better. It had become clear that no technology of any kind would be enough to assuage that human desire.

Now Mars too was afflicted with a debilitating factor, destroying the myth of pristine beauty that science, technology and human innovation had at first instilled. Humanity was facing another blow to its communal mental state, a last focus for optimism, idealism and hope was now tarnished. How could he possibly turn this around... even to the slightest degree?

I began analysing the data. Not the data concerning the spread of the virus however. My interest and purpose lay in examining the logistics involved in creating a bridge to a place where the entire psychological state of humanity would be lifted. The crucial mission I was tasked with was not medical, it was far wider, far broader than that, it was nothing less than instilling the confidence in humanity that it could survive. Mission Restore Hope lay heavily upon my shoulders even though I had the assurance of every technological asset at my beck and call.

Earth could no longer go on as it was. The series of pandemics that had hit her since the 2020s along with the unstoppable population rise and steady decrease in both viable living space and dwindling resources had reached a tipping point. Food and fuel could no longer be brought efficiently and predictably to where they were needed. These and not luxuries were of course the essentials but access to little luxuries had taken the edge off the pain of reduced living and these were now absent or at unaffordable prices for the average household. This nexus of negativity was creating a fast-growing panic and invitation to mass disorder at a time when only an orderly calm could possibly mitigate the situation. Each negative factor had begun to feed on all the others. Crime was rising steadily, drug use also. Suicides were commonplace and aggression in every community and home was on a steady incline. Things up there on what appeared to me as the most beatific and tranquil ball of light possible were going rapidly from bad to worse.

But what was I to do?

My visitors were of the elite class within the colony. Naturally, they offered their ideas long-considered regarding possible solutions regarding the virus and were ignorant of the true scope of my mission. I humoured them as best I could and was eventually left in virtual peace except for the occasional invitation to breakfast, brunch or evening meetings. I was grateful for this mix as I needed both to maintain my balance. Peace enough to analyse all aspects of this vastly complex problem and enough time away providing a distraction from it.

Back on Earth the program to locate ever more planets capable of sustaining life had been in progress for well over a century. In tandem, transfer units capable of taking large numbers rather than simply individuals had been ongoing for some time and in recent years had attracted ever-greater investment. I knew that it would have to be these two developments that would provide some easing of the present dangerous impasse regarding population growth and the predations of the virus and all other infectious diseases.

The mass migration of humankind, reborn through the cleansing effect of pre-transfer scrubbing to other life-viable worlds must surely be the essence of any framework put in place to provide that element of hope I was charged with creating. But to what degree could it be real, to what degree could fatalities be hidden and how could those with the virus be dealt with?

Interior scrubbing was impossible. Though the virus would be eliminated so too would all the helpful, indeed vital, microbes that lived within each human. The solution was clear, at least here on Mars Colony. Those with the virus infecting them would have to be quarantined on a semi-permanent basis until some cure could be found. Or… simply terminated.

I was in regular contact by encrypted means to the mission-dedicated Restore Hope team on Earth. I was hearing that the mass transfer units were now in test mode, that means of travelling to even the most distant life-viable planets was now subject to an imminent breakthrough. The mass concentration of resources both financial and human to these areas over previous decades was finally bearing fruit. Knowledge that an inescapable crunch was coming for all mankind was not new but political and economic factors had delayed the necessary actions needed for far too long. These and the previous geopolitical disunity had mitigated strongly against the alliance of unity formed some twenty-five years previously. When the climate change catastrophes began to hit in the mid-2020s it became clear to all that only unity of purpose despite all ideological differences could save humanity now. On top of this came the latest pandemic. Now we all knew just how high the stakes were for every last one of us.

The true reason for my mission to Mars Colony had of course not been to solve their virus problem, it had been to get me off Earth in a position of communication security unavailable back home. Not even the most secure locations on Earth were unhackable these days. The level of sophistication outside the origin of authority matched that which was inside in almost every way. Here, on Mars, total security could be assured.

The factors of faster than light space travel and molecular de- and re-integration were intertwined at the nub of what was desperately required now. All nations within The Unity of States was working on both at the highest priority level possible. My task was to coordinate and assign tasks to maintain all operations at the highest possible peak of efficiency while receiving the fruits of big data at nanosecond frequency. My analysis nexus was universal in scope and linked to every supercomputer on Earth. The speed of processing and analysis delivery was breathtaking and the visual models created, equally so.

It was some six months from my arrival date that the first breakthrough occurred. In a combination of cosmic string energy fluctuations and conduits through the space-time continuum resulting from these, the first element in our transfer puzzle was resolved. We now had the potential to reach the proximity of all those life-viable planets identified to date. All resources were now poured into the mass transfer program and in five more months a breakthrough of equal proportions was also made. The foundation for the mass migration of virus-free individuals was now not only a real possibility but a viable reality.

The public relations program framed the journey to new worlds as you might expect. Hope was key. Adventure and ambition followed along with heavy plugging of freedom along with what was conveyed as the unique opportunity of a lifetime. Families were encouraged especially though of course any virus-free individual was welcomed. The buzz created was enormous and all authorities were well prepared to process all volunteers. The Transfer units were in place on each continent. The screening centres also. Backing all else up were the units dealing with the PR program to highlight the better life for those unable or unwilling to make the trip as millions departed off-world.

Watching these developments and being heavily involved with the logistics using the vast computing and coordinating power I had was immensely gratifying. Though difficult decisions remained in regard to the virus-infected millions remaining on Earth and those on Mars the primary mission was being fulfilled. Now that the two primary factors had been resolved resources could now be re-routed to creating some form of selective interior scrubbing clean of humanity in relation to the viruses which continued to plague us. Those who were healthy could leave. Now it was time to regain some semblance of truly livable lives for all within The Unity of States.

Now there was truly time for hope.

FICTION: THE RIGHT ROBOT

He was running out of time. It was imperative that he find the right robot… and soon.

In 2095 you might think this task should have been easy. However, for him it was not. There were certain characteristics that must be present for his choice to fulfil the tasks required of him. And yes, the robot was to be male. This was crucial. Male, very kind and gentle, full of the characteristics that he wished to bestow on the precious little human he must leave behind.

He had scoured the internet for the robot which would fulfil his needs. There were many that had several characteristics that were on his list, but the one with them all continued to elude him.

Then he made a breakthrough.

It was on a frosty, late autumn evening that Marc happened upon Harpy. Not that this was a meeting that had the initial appearances of being fateful in any positive sense. Harpy had simply fallen across his path, so to speak. He’d seen him a few times around the neighbourhood, slumped here, talking garrulously to someone there and often in the local shop spending any coins he’d gathered for a small bottle of cheap wine. Harpy was a hobo and as far as he could tell, homeless.

In these days there was little tolerance for men like Harpy. The basic income given to the 75% unemployed was deemed enough to pay for a place to stay, clothing, energy and food. Those like Harpy were bucking the system by refusing this help or refusing to use it wisely, and it bugged people.

He’d been deep in thought taking his nightly constitutional walk down by the narrow strip of parkland near his apartment when it happened. Suddenly, out of nowhere he was accosted by a flurry of apologies as the largely grey shape of Harpy appeared from his right and barged into him. After the initial shock from which he soon recovered he began to engage Harp in communication.

Are you okay was soon followed by can I help you in any way, which then morphed concernedly into have you some shelter around here where you can shelter? Harpy’s eyes were at first glazed as he attempted to discover who was addressing him. Then, upon finding their target they focused perfectly. He saw that his eyes were as grey as the dishevelled coat he was wearing… but he saw also that there was something intelligent emerging there beyond the gleam of aftereffects from his last bottle of wine. He made a quick decision, partly based on his need for some kind of change, almost anything after so little progress in finding what he sought lately. He invited Harpy home.

After a sobering bath Harpy sat on the sofa in front of the permaglow fire in one of Marc’s warmest dressing gowns.

It was then he began to tease Harpy’s story out of him.

The year of his exit from the “blessings” of modern society had been 2088. His work no longer pleased nor satisfied him. In fact, it downright disgusted him. At the end of his tether, he had simply walked out one summer’s day and had never returned. Since then he had become what earlier generations had called a recluse. A recluse with a penchant for fine wines. Harpy did have a place of shelter, an old abandoned garage ‘way over in a tiny sliver of land too small for the construction of anything profitable. It was a decaying artefact of a messier time hidden amidst unruly bushes and weeds where no one strayed these days. Walking had mostly gone out of fashion so it was a perfect place to hide away completely undisturbed.

Marc began to feel glad he had kept up his evening strolls despite Harpy being the only soul he’d ever “bumped into” during them for the last decade and a half. As he got more and more details from him Marc began to feel the beginnings of the notion that they were kindred spirits of a sort. Marc belonged to an older school too, one that found the new and ultra-clinical modern world lacking in myriad, often indefinable ways.

Harpy was not averse to telling his story but Marc noticed early on that this did not include discussions regarding his employment save that he hadn’t liked what he was doing in any shape or form. Lacking this information and having heard much of Harpy’s life outside of the world of work Marc began describing the abiding problem he had which had almost become an obsession now. Finding the right robot.

To this point Harpy had been content to lie back on the sofa, looking around the room with casual interest and looking like he was enjoying feeling right at home. On hearing of Marc’s problem however, he began leaning forward and focusing intently upon Marc in a way that was mildly off-putting.

Marc described the characteristics he was looking for in great detail. These facts had been in Marc’s waking and sleeping hours for a good six months and it felt good to get his thoughts out there even for this man he didn’t know from Adam.

Harpy’s eyes grew every more focused as Marc continued describing what he was looking for. Then why.

Marc had only a few more short months to live or so he was told. But this was not the primary focus of his thoughts. These were elsewhere, with the apple of his eye, his granddaughter Olivia. Olivia was ten delightful years old and loved her grandpa very much and showed her love for him in exuberant clarity every time they were together. It was for her Marc lived and for her, he searched. For the right robot.

It would have all the characteristics he hoped he displayed each time he and Olivia met. Though it could not possibly take his place at least it could create a semblance of his beingness, his voice and he hoped, the physical and facial resemblance to himself that he hoped would be a comfort to her. But more than that it should have the ability to teach the kindest attributes humans could aspire to. He felt this latter ability was as necessary as all others as in this cold modern world the best of humanity was a fading memory within a world now much more cutthroat than he had known in his own formative years.

Harpy now looked down at his hands as he perched on the edge of the sofa, lost in thought. Marc wondered at this reaction to his words and on Harpy lifting his gaze once again to him he was amazed to see tears in his eyes.

Eventually, he managed to let just a few words emerge from what was otherwise a quite grim, tight-lipped face.

“I… I can help you.”

Marc wondered how in heaven’s name such a man might be able to do anything at all to help him. But he was soon to find out.

Harpy left the next morning after spending the night in warmth on Marc’s sofa. Marc thought he’d seen the last of him then. But he was wrong.

The next day a note was slipped under Marc’s apartment door.

It was a list headed by the same words Harpy had uttered the night before.

Marc couldn’t believe his eyes. Almost everything on the list had the appearance of being highly technical with references in the margin opposite each item providing additional detail regarding quality, type and catalogue number.

At the foot were the names and addresses of outlets where Marc would most likely find the items listed.

It was hard for Marc to swallow that this had any kind of true relation to his problem… but luckily for him his intuition cast aside the doubts that had immediately arisen in his mind and he wasted no time in setting off for the nearest outlet named.

That night Marc’s home was an Alladin’s Cave of shiny metal, glistening cable, plastic sheets and aluminium coil. Only an hour or so after having arrived back at his place Harpy was at his door. On opening up, Marc couldn’t help the widening of his eyes as he saw what to him appeared to be a reborn Harpy before him. Dressed in clean, newly purchased overalls complete with pens in pocket and leather tool belt on his waist Harpy was clearly ready for business.

Marc woke from sleep several times that night to the sound of a hiss, a tap or two or what incredibly, sounded almost like voices. After the last of these interruptions, he finally fell fast asleep. As he woke he perceived the same total silence that usually greeted him. At that point, he almost believed that what he had heard through the night had only been the product of his dreams. But he was to find he was quite wrong on that score.

Gently opening his bedroom door and peeking outside toward the lounge down the hall he caught his first glance of shining metal reflecting the bright sunlight coming through his lounge windows. He tip-toed out into the hall and down to where he could look directly into the lounge. There he saw Harpy fast asleep on the sofa with what almost appeared to be a smile on his lips. Then, moving his gaze leftwards he stood stock still with a sharp intake of breath. For a moment he thought he was looking into his very own face.

The technology of plastic vitality had made it possible to imbue thin layers of a specially engineered plastic material with an image, moving or still. The WallScreen had taken the place of each wall covering and TV screen in a growing number of up-market homes. Any image used previously on wallpaper plus a near-infinite number of others, along with any display of TV/movie/computer/cell output could be displayed at any size on any defined space up to and including complete walls or in fact on ALL walls as required. The home was now capable of being monitor at all sizes from micro to macro, ceiling, floor and wall up to and including a full virtual surround experience. This technical advance could also be used to perfectly mimic the human face moulded precisely with exact contours on skinlike plastic surfaces.

This was why Marc found himself staring open-mouthed at what had begun to resemble another human being… him.

Harpy, or as Marc had found out, Harry, now began to wake from his slumbers.

“He’s just the beginning. Give me a week and he’ll be done, I promise.”

Marc was at a loss for words but managed an effusive thanks before too long. This was fortunate as it was crucial for Harry that Marc speak as much as possible in the week following and weeks to come so that as full an intonation and vocabulary memory could be constructed to make his metal and plastic brother resemble his speech output as closely as possible.

The days passed in rapid progression with the same pattern. Marc fell asleep happier than he had felt for many months before. He had growing confidence that what he had sought and had begun to believe could not become reality just might be possible.

On the seventh day, he woke to a light tap on his door. On calling out he’d be up soon he was amazed to hear a somehow familiar voice asked if he might like a cup of tea and perhaps some toast delivered on a tray to his bedside. Marc delivered a shaky yes please in response after the initial confusion caused by this bizarre and wholly unexpected question.

Minutes later he found himself looking into the face he had become used to seeing each morning this week as he rose… but now it was atop a full-body exactly matching his present shape, weight and outline on legs that moved it to his bedside complete with a laden tray.

“Take your time now, we have all the time in the world and a whole world to explore.”

Marc knew these were words Olivia would hear as they were typical of his own which sought to bring calm to her world in the midst of a world that needed protector grandpas like him. He knew now that his intent to protect that which was most precious to him would now succeed and continue to succeed long after he was gone.

His joy was so great he rushed past his double into the lounge to express his thanks to Harry, to Harpy. But he was nowhere to be seen. All that remained of him was a note with a sentence composed of only ten words.

Please, give her a kiss on the cheek for me,

Harry

Marc would. And kissed Harry’s note too, each and every day until the day he died.

Together they had achieved what had seemed impossible, the birth of the right robot.

-

The Right Robot Company as you will be aware has revolutionized the robotics industry worldwide making all previous models redundant. The humanity of its robots could not be matched by any earlier development standard and has been instrumental in creating the new global ambience we all now know and love. The gentleness of their programming features and ability to teach an entire generation to learn much and love a lot has had an incalculable effect on all of us. And for this, we thank Harry and thank too, the first two Marcs who began this genesis of an entirely new era.