Frank knew that was the last time he’d see Joel.
The process of transition was speeding up He stayed in
his apartment most of the time. Sometimes he was the Frank
he knew, and at times he was Frank in a blue uniform, working
on some kind of craft
he was in. It was like being in an Escher drawing where one
half was fish and one half was birds. At first, Frank only
identified with his old self, but as the process continued, he
found himself more at home in the blue uniform and his old
self seemed more like a dream.
Here was the meaning of 2012…what all he prophesies were about.
The earth was on it’s way out…humans had all but made certain
that the environment would be destroyed. Alien technology was able
to transition certain humans
from the earth to a parallel dimension. Not all humans were able
to make the transition. Sociopaths, psychopaths, ,many politicians
soldiers, insurance salesmen, in short humans with fixed or
frozen brain activity couldn’t make the leap. They would have
to remain on the earth and deal with the consequences.
****Frank woke up from a great night’s sleep. He showered,
put on his uniform and went to mess. It was going to be a busy day,
but Frank liked his job, and today he was going to debrief some
newbies that had recently made the transition At ten A.M.,
Frank walked into the conference room. there were about thirty
people assembled. Frank started with his usual joke:
“I know you’re not from around here….my name is
Frank 2664499. Yeah, just numbers for last names now…t
hey justified it because the said it reduced racial stereotyping…
.problem is, they pick the last few numbers as a code, like
when they want to send you a little personal message….
number slang, it’s called. I’m an L.P. technician…pretty
evolved, stationed on Calysto, though I do my share of drives….
uh…..slang for space trips between planets, star systems….
that kinda stuff. Calysto sounds like calypso and that’s
just what it does….it’s got a very large, very fluid core….
and the surface doesn’t just have quakes, but mountain
ranges form within a matter of months….so the settlements
have to be anti-grav. bases. The mining is good and the
views are spectacular. I go out on drives when they need
an L.P. . All the ships class three and above
have to have them….so you have to do your share.
I got a call for a pinhole leak on the matter converter line….
at half a mil., p.s.i., that leak could cut a man in half, like
a monofilament, at forty yard. So, our work can be
dangerous, but it’s not all that frequent….and molecular
welding techniques have improved tenfold in the last
year. Yeah, they still call us plumbers, L.P.’s.
I looked up the term in the history correlation tapes,
and saw how the work and how society relates to the
profession is very much the same as in the old days…
I feel sympathy with those that worked at the “trade”
in those old days of P.T. earth…oh, that’s Pre-Transformation,
before the start of the new time cycle….(I’ll tell
you in a minute)…anyway, I found a phrase on a
zonecite somewhere, and I liked it, so I adapted it for today:
“Flush twice….it’s a long way to the matter converter.”
I guess you could say I’m a little obsessed about the past,
particularly the time just before The Transformation,
when people began to think seriously about space, (the
Western technocracies, at least), those “T.V.” shows
where the guy asks the computer for a
ham sandwich and it just plops down with pickle, into a
hole in the wall…matter conversion. Well, the matter
converters use less energy when what they use for
raw materials is closer in characteristics to its product,
like atomic weight and molecular structure…so, human
waste, carbon based and organic, is cheap and plentiful….
the product bears no resemblance to what went in. But,
I have all my steaks made out of carbon steel. That way,
I get to have my own little chuckle…
I wrote the phrase on the toilet wall…graffiti is a high
art form now…a mandelfad…a …kind of harmless glitch
in the matrix, the interconnectedness of all worlds,
that makes a certain style extremely popular over a
lot of time and space….and makes the proponents of
such a fad wildly popular…and rich….it’s called “getting
Trump-ed” A lot of ‘em quark out….but others are able
to handle it. I wasn’t trying to get discovered…
art was just a hobby for me.
The toilets now are smarter than my grandparents…
you sit down…and when you get up, you’re clean, dry,
and perfumed… and your vitals have been checked,
seritonin and other hormonal levels checked and adjusted
so your mind is where it should be according to your blend.
I have a P.H. D. in nuclear physics just to understand how
the damned thing works. I have other degrees,
but the Doc. is minimum industry standards….couldn’t
happen without evolution therapy…
Occasionally, the pressure fluctuates, and I get a couple
hemorrhoid calls…but not often.
I wanked through the wrong door once and there
was a guy there, naked…he screamed at me:
“Get out! Can’t you see I’m
evolving?!!” and slammed the door in my face.
Yeah, evolution therapy
is ok to do in your quarters, but sometimes people
get to be evolution junkies, for the rush of a few
extra limbs….but…not likely in my neighborhood.
It’s to keep the instrument tuned, (the therapy)…
the smart bit, not the manifestation….
it’s supposed to be for that.
Am I going too fast?”
THE END