Futures Near and Far Read Online Free PDF Page B

filled with the memory of the heat glowing just outside my shield, the Earth looming below, larger and larger. No
matter how many times I do it, the anticipation of death sends the
tingle down my spine like ultimate sex, as dependable as a narcotic. And then
there’s the cool bliss of the Big White Light.
    I wonder if there’s a God? Is St. Peter pissed off at how
few people have been streaming through those pearly gates lately?
    Hey, Pete, here I come. Don’t be lonely.
    “Confirm petition,” I said.
    “Petition granted. Your
nanodocs have been disengaged and
your scan has been archived. Permanent suicide is now your option.”
    I licked my lips and took my stance on the board. With those
ominous words, I had become the proverbial acrobat,
treading the tightrope without a net. Sweat pooled at the end of my
nose, prevented from dropping off by the proximity of my shield.
    I aimed the board so that the tip obscured my view of Oregon. Too bad I couldn’t target my mother’s
apartment — not that anything solid
would make it far enough to create an
impact crater. I wondered if she were awake yet. Wasn’t much chance
she’d stayed up late thinking about me.
    So much ocean down there.
The amniotic fluid of the whole planet.
    My eyes widened. I cued
the Net. “Access Reproduction Review Board database. Do you have a birth
request from Monica Taylor, I.D. 555-94-1830-66-291?”
    “Negative. No such request on file.”
    That sneaky bitch. She’d
actually had me believing it.
    Did it make any difference that she was bluffing? I was
still up here, at the upper reaches of the atmosphere. I still had a decision
to make.
    Maybe I could hold off
for a few weeks. With my docs out of commission, I could apply to become a
Christian Scientist or a member of the Society of Mortals. Giselle had done it
once. She’d said it was the most exciting period of her life, knowing she could
really croak at any time, even by accident.
    Mom would be left wondering exactly when I’d actually cash
in. Or when I’d strike next. Or—
    Who was I kidding? I was talking about only one thing here.
Life was rearing its fuzzy little head in front of my carefully painted vision. I’d lost the moment. The worst part
of it was, if I couldn’t do it now, under these circumstances, when could I?
    Probably never.
    “Erase petition,” I said, sighing. “Reactivate docs and
retrieve scan.”
    “Acknowledged.”
    I’d always thought I would do it someday. I always thought it was just a matter of time. Suddenly all
those six thousand temporary suicides seemed like some hoary old game, a behavior based on a false assumption about
myself.
    I had no idea where to go from here. I didn’t really like
it. But I knew who I had to ask for advice. I had a hint I could reach her now.
    I activated the Link. “Mom?” I asked.
    Her voice came through quietly and clearly, unaccompanied by
a visual. “I’m here.”
    Her hoarse, strained tone
put an uncontrollable quiver into my smile. “Mom, can we talk?”
    “Yes. If you’ll let Ellen be there later on.”
    An image came into my head of Monica staying up through the
night, pacing, asking the Net every five seconds if I’d cancelled the petition,
unblocking the Link the instant I did so. My
throat ached with a sweet, powerful tightness.
    “Get some rest, Mom. I’ll
be there soon. I’ve got a couple of things to do first.”
    “I’ll be here.”
    I smiled wryly at the
big, beautiful planet that had given me so much shit, and would give me lots
more. Only a crazy woman would go
back. Sighing, I activated the scanner. Aiming the surf board at the
night-shrouded Pacific, I glided into the atmosphere. I made one hell of a
meteor.
    And within minutes, I was reborn.
    Return to Table of Contents

INTRODUCTION TO “TERMITES”
    Identifying the
genesis of a story isn’t always possible, but I know where this one came from.
The underlying scientific premise is the brainchild of Robert A. Fleming,
friend, maniac,