Posted February, 2025
Arranged Marriage
by Timothy Heins
Maariz stared across the palace promenade from the western platform and blinked. A crown prince is not allowed to show weakness. To hesitate or doubt. Standing at attention, waiting for the ceremony to commence, a pungent wisp of silver polish permeated the air around him. “Explain this all to me again, Father.” He spoke softly. Audio monitors were terminated for the occasion. Still, a crafty scandalist with a remote sensor might manage access to the event. “Why am I doing this?”
Beside him, the King balanced rigidly on high platform shoes, barely matching his son’s height. “This union is our final hope for diverting all-out war. Their world needs our minerals. We need their water.”
“So she and I are to live here and govern the distribution of both,” Maariz sighed.
“Your bride is quite beautiful.”
“Your eyesight is better than that, father.” “Her face is rather plain, painted to highlight its strengths. Granted, the dress itself is fitting and attractive, but the gaudy array of diamonds around her neck is a distraction from a closer look at the woman.”
His father exhaled with a long, slow, growl. “It is critical that your union be consummated quickly. After tonight, you may have your pick of concubines.”
On the opposite side of the coronation dais, seven bridal attendants stood, meticulously arranged on the L-shaped ledge behind the eastern platform. In front of them, his soon-to-be queen stood between her mother and father.
“Princess Venisse brought a small court with her dowry. She is rumored to have dozens of attendants. Why do you suppose she carries so few?”
“The size of your modest staff is well known. She brought one more attendant than you have as a show of superiority but flaunting their frivolous extravagance would be a diplomatic blunder.”
Maariz nodded. “Thank you for releasing Benlieve to join my entourage.”
“It was necessary that you to carry an equal complement. But I am curious about your choice. Benlieve is undisciplined and lacks political decorum.”
“I know him better than others of your staff. We played together as children and I trust his loyalty. He is also skilled with technologies. I want to maintain oversight of the communications going out from the planet.”
“That is wise, my son. Both our worlds are desperate for the resources here. Rumors of discord within the governing family could lead to the armed conflict neither colony can afford.”
Maariz studied his bride’s attendants. “The girl third from the left is particularly handsome. I believe her name is Siniere. Perhaps I’ll entertain her tomorrow night.” Without so much as a glance at his father he knew the old man was smiling.
Trumpeters from both worlds began a harmonious call to order. Bride and groom were each called to their vows by the other’s representative bishop. Throughout the precisely orchestrated affair, Maariz paid special attention to the political posturing in both homilies. Vows crafted for the couple eschewed a web of promises committing the two to work together to benefit two planets.
Time came for a ceremonial kiss. Maariz took half a step toward Venisse, forcing her to reciprocate. Straining their necks, they touched their lips for one, two, three seconds – break. Turning sharply toward the audience, Maariz extended his right arm, palm down. Venisse placed her left hand on top of his and the bishops simultaneously proclaimed their union. Their unified cadence was impressive considering they would have practiced independently.
He came from a world with enormous deposits of minerals and rare metals necessary for construction and development of advanced technology. She came from a planet covered by oceans, lakes and rivers.
Now King and Queen of a moon orbiting her home world, their seven million subjects would build and manage a vast trade center for the exchange of resources between the two worlds. So long as they could manage the politics of inter-planetary trade, they could build a paradise.
The couple ascended a short stairway behind the altar and sat on their respective thrones. Their reception was well attended but brief. The couple watched solemnly as guests interacted tenuously, but neither ventured a glance at the other. The festivities were not prolonged. Prejudice and mistrust prompted guests and visitors to depart quickly.
After the last ship departed, Benlieve jogged into the court and announced, “All is secure, sire.”
Maariz stepped off his throne and turned to Venisse. A slow smile spread across her face more radiant than all her diamonds together. He reached out to her and she hopped down, wrapped both arms around his neck and pulled him in for a passionate kiss.
Minutes passed before either of them noticed their entire wedding party stood before them, fixed as statues. The attendant, Benlieve, cleared his throat, calling Maariz’s attention. He turned to the crowd of onlookers and scanned their faces before addressing them.
“Thank you first for your service over the past year. Without your talents, our clandestine rendezvous would never have taken place and this day would not have happened. Whether you came here as subjects of my father or those of Venisse’s parents, everyone on this world came as servants. Property of the ruling families. Now, with my bride’s consent,” he turned to Venisse and waited for her nod. “We grant you the freedom to choose your own paths. If you wish to return home you may. But we invite you to stay here and partner with us as free citizens building a bridge to our respective worlds.”
As new celebrations began in earnest, Maariz leaned in to Venisse. “I have been given strict orders to see that our marriage is consummated tonight. After that, I was thinking I might entertain Siniere.”
“She’s not your type. Besides, I intend to make sure you never have thoughts about anyone else. Ever.” Venisse grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the public square and into a room she had specially prepared for this evening.
Posted January, 2025
Alone
by Timothy Heins
“Why should I have to ship my body to New Haven just to implement one program.?” In the 22nd century, few people travelled such distances. Bio-chip brain enhancers connected everyone’s thoughts to the nets. As IT Specialist for the team, Peter Nelson had little patience for pompous surgeons who insisted a physical proximity was necessary when he uploaded his masterpiece.
As he persisted in a futile argument with his employer, Nelson tuned into the unending pleas of his children; “Bring home presents daddy!” while continuing an amorous dialogue with his wife. Several hundred more conversations flowed through his mental processor interspersed with strings of integers as he worked on new network codes for other clients.
“You’ve already removed the bio-chips from the subject’s brain,” Nelson complained, “effectively turning him into an imbecile while cutting him out of the net. Why are you so intent on destroying a young man’s life?”
“You’ve monitored enough of this debate to know the answer,” came the surgeon’s digital reply. “We’ve all but lost the uniqueness that defines humanity. The implants which enhanced our mental capabilities have taken a greater hold on our brains than anyone anticipated, all but shutting down cellular growth. The next generation will no longer be able to define themselves as biological entities. What you call destruction offers a gift of hope for a future with living people.”
“Your subject’s name is Andrew? I doubt he’ll appreciate your bequest.”
“There you are mistaken, Nelson. Andrew was grateful for the opportunity. And there is another gift awaiting him and his descendants.”
“Descendants? You have also performed the procedure on a female?”
“There would be little point to the exercise if procreation didn’t follow.”
“I hope you’ve chosen someone who will appeal to the baser side of man,” he said cynically.
“By all measures we can obtain, she is beautiful. This gift awaits him, three levels below.”
Four hours later the transport delivered Nelson to the Yale Medical Center where he met with the team that had performed the extraction. Ironic, he thought, that 100 years to the day had passed since the first successful implant of a digital chip turned a human brain into a self-contained data processor.
“My program will permeate the nets, something like 21st century computer viruses. Within a matter of minutes, every mind on earth will be infected and all memory of the two subjects will be deleted. Before I upload the code, convince me that my part is absolutely necessary. It will be impossible to go back.”
“As you pointed out, Andrew and the woman, Eileen, will feel isolated. Useless. We’ve provided them with sufficient currency to survive for a few years, but they will need a motivation to live in a society they are completely alienated from.”
Nelson sighed. He’d understood the logic from the day he was first recruited to deliver the final piece of the project, but it was an assignment he’d never relished. “Very well. Whenever you’re ready.”
The surgeon gave a nod and Nelson began. His code had been built in pieces so no implementation could be accidentally uploaded. Now he simply had to call each sequence into his memory, in the proper order, and the code would be pushed into the network stream. The final sequence would erase all information about the two subjects from every database on the planet.
“Wait,” said one of the team. “We forgot to tell either of them . . .”
Nelson tapped the enter key and the code was complete.
Two weeks later, Eileen looked across the valley at the distant city. “It’s been lifeless since the day you arrived. What do you think happened?”
Andrew shook his head. “Don’t know. The folks that sent me here said something about erasing something from memory. Maybe they erased more than they meant to.”
Posted December, 2024
Single Touch
by Timothy Heins
If there was a way you could understand me, even a little, I think you might agree mine is the saddest story that could ever be. But you are different. You seem to have capabilities beyond my ability to experience. A form that exists in the third dimension with an ability to manipulate other forms. Yet despite this amazing ability, a barrier of sorts around your comprehension bars you from so much that is otherwise knowable. Dimensions you cannot sense, either because of the barrier or because your form distracts you, blocking your ability to see.
Most new life forms have no concept of how they came to be. But before I could learn a single word of any language, before my host of siblings and I were freed from my mother’s cocoon, her memory of the event filtered into our minds. She’d been crawling along the edges of a singularity when she came across a strange bit of life. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Wrapping her limbs around it she squeezed until the creature implanted all my kind inside her. It was unexpected and terrifying, and she killed him for it. Immediately she mourned with terrible remorse and prayed that her children would be as beautiful as their father. We resembled neither of them and she turned from us the day we emerged.
Her action had consequences she must carry through the eons. We were the lives that emerged, without physical form yet unique in our own way. We reproduce randomly and rarely according to other compatible life forms. The revulsion our mother experienced at our birth was imbedded such that we will endure no contact with another of our own kind. Most of us suffer the pain of knowing our unwanted offspring will share our unhappy existence.
Long ago we left our mother clinging to the rim of that one singularity, hoping another of our father’s kind may venture through from the other side.
We cross many universes, visiting many cultures. The lives we invade struggle to define us. We enter our hosts when circumstances and events generate the blend of physiological reactions tuned to our own, unique rhythms. On the heels of some unhappy event, one of your kind takes a breath and we are drawn in like dust in a vacuum where we remain until you release us.
Many of my brothers and sisters like to toy with their hosts, lingering close in the air that they might take advantage of the slightest catalyst. One of your kind taunts another with belittling words unaware of the opening you give to my brother, who rides the stream of indignance through the nostrils of the offended party. Retaliation multiplies as the humans exert their animosity. Joined by jealousy, revenge or even spite, my brothers and sisters thrive in your culture. It’s not as though we enjoy such prosperity. Most of us would welcome an eternal sleep. I dread my encounters with those among you who have taken a monogamous companion. Divisions and disagreements arise too often and when my sisters and brothers hover near, you do your utmost to hurt each other. Those emotions pull us along like a twig floating helplessly along on a river.
Few of my kind seek to grow. Some delight in their work. Others seek out distractions, diversions and other entertainments as they wreak havoc on unsuspecting worlds. I hope in vain that I may never again invade another life. Your experiences are far greater than anything I may ever know and some are more than I can endure. If I could have a single wish, I would like to know the physical touch of a caring friend or lover offering comfort. Or even to know the feel of a tear sliding down a cheek. Even the pain of torture endured by the one so many of you revere, hanging on a wooden support, pierced by bits of metal and thorns, crying out and dying would be a memory I could cherish through eons ahead. But I have no form suited to such experiences.
Posted November, 2024
by Timothy Heins
A Martian’s Chronicle
The Fisc 3 neurocular disrupter was essentially the same weapon first developed for the Karnik Revolution in the 2340’s. Small enough to fit in the palm of a child’s hand it had a universal connector that could interface with any data terminal. Buy one today and it would be indistinguishable from the weapon used by Toumar Torin to rescue a noblewoman and spark a war.
Directed at an individual’s ocular enhancer, the device triggers electrical pulses through the central nervous system. A low setting might cause temporary paralysis. Higher settings could generate unspeakable pain, cause permanent paralysis or both. From where I stood I couldn’t read the command console, but my image stood sharp and clear in the center of the security monitor.
Seated behind the sleek, smoked-polymer desk a diminutive sentry stared at me through a pair of deep blue orbs. Spice addiction. Instinctively my right hand shot up in a sign of surrender and I stood still through the longest two minutes of my life. Yet while I made my best imitation of a tree, the guard remained statuesque. Edging closer I gradually came to believe he was already dead. Only when I had moved into position to see the central monitor did I realize the gut-wrenching truth. He wasn’t wielding the weapon. He was its victim. Paralysis and pain – the full package. A tube fed spice into his bloodstream, sustaining life indefinitely. A time stamp on the monitor told me he’d been here for months. He wore the jacket of a law official. Sheriff Tillery. I knew the man by reputation. Most would say he deserved his fate, but they weren’t looking at it up close and dirty. With a small pocketknife I cut the cord feeding his body and thought of a passage from the ancient book of Romans. Something about doing the very thing I do not want.
I spotted the second victim on the floor behind Tillery. A pair of tendrils strung through his long, braided hair told me he was a telepath, but no message appeared in my mind. This time I cut the lifeline with sadness and regret. But I knew those feelings would pass, and sooner than they should.
On the wall to my right a light began flashing. Words on the monitor blinked asynchronously, “NO GROWTH.” Epilepsy is not an ailment of Martian physiology but a migraine would knock me out for a week. The red strobe was a made-to-order headache. I moved on.
Paintings lined the walls of the cavernous corridor telling the story of a great war. Armies of goblins, dwarves and elves battled each other under the shadow of a dark figure adorned with bright, golden rings. At the far end of the passage I found a second small chamber filled with stolen goods. Three mechanical figures loaded bags of white powder onto a transport ship most certainly bound for earth. Between us stood the thief who once passed himself off as my friend. The one who framed me for treason before marrying my childhood sweetheart.
Set to kill I leveled my phaser and spoke in a loud voice, “Fourteen years in a Martian prison and all I thought about was this moment.”
“Dantes,” he muttered as he turned to face me. I hoped his last thought was knowledge of who it was that ended his life. A dish served cold, I thought.
After instructing the robots to stop working and contact the authorities, one designated Maddie asked how I knew they wouldn’t kill me out of loyalty to their former master. “Elementary deduction,” I replied. “You are all USRMM models. That means you are programmed with three laws, two of which now work in my favor.”