other dust, crackles in the background. “Parminder is 1,723 years old today!” The reminders are the longest part of its liturgy, reminders of things that were missed. Birthdays in the main, where cards were not sent. Others are appointments never kept, and prompts to attend regular meetings that ceased to be regular long ago. The machine recites them all with equanimity. Its voice is faint but cheerful, although a buzz mars it. At its sound the wind seems cowed, as if offended. The recitation takes a long time. Finally, it is done.
“Last twittles: Moshi Horowitz is having palm-steamed yam for breakfast. Liam’s train is late again, but he is enjoying a bacon sandwich. Melinda is very tired, but last night was fun! Rodrigo Anamate says you must check out this link. Link unavailable. No further messages. These messages are 619,423 days old. Delete? Please repeat. Voice command only. My touch screen is damaged. Please have me serviced at your earliest convenience. I am not connected to the internet. Searching for wifi connection.”
For a while the silence is given back to the wind, to break or not as it chooses.
“No wifi detected.”
Silence again. The silence lasts the rest of the day. Today is a bright day by the standards of the era, and at times almost warm. The passage of time is uncertain. Noon is a blur in a different part of the sky, afternoon a smear near the horizon. Brown day makes way for grey dusk. Night comes swiftly. There are no stars.
The glow from the robot’s screen is a lonely light. The world retreats within it, becoming a square patch of sand with sloping sides, framing a dead man’s outstretched hand. His bones gleam like gold.
The robot is limited. It is programmed to show concern, yet not to be intrusive. In its mind, flickering so erratically now, a facsimile of compassion gives rise to a need to reassure. “I am afraid I cannot answer your last queries,” it says. “I am not equipped to make fire. I do not know how to make fire. I do not know the location of water. I cannot make water. This information is not available to me. I am not connected to the internet. I am sorry.
“You are quiet,” it says. “Are you sad?”
Again the machine falls silent as its worn brain searches for something to cheer this last master.
“I have some amusing footage of kittens, if you would like to see it.”
The night wears on. The machine’s solar charge runs out, the light dies.
The wind tucks the city back in, into its blankets of dust.
* * * * *
Copyright © 2013 Guy Haley
* * * * *
Guy Haley lives in Somerset with his wife Emma, young son Benny, a Malamute called Magnus, and an enormous, evil-tempered Norwegian forest cat called, ironically, Buddy. He has published novels with Angry Robot (the Richards & Klein series) and Solaris ( Champion of Mars ). Visit him online at [email protected].
* * * * *
* * * * *
SKY LEAP–EARTH FLAME
by Jim Hawkins
Illustrations for Sky Leap–Earth Flame by Richard Wagner
SKY LEAP–EARTH FLAME
“ Why is sky blue, Mariam?”
“I don’t know. Ask Victor.”
“Can you touch it, Mariam?”
The grass around the tanks kept itself a perfect green and at a perfect height of half an inch.There were small hills, rocky outcrops, and sudden patches of sand. Over to the east there was a lake that stretched beyond the horizon, and sometimes she spotted a sailboat with white canvas taut in the breeze.
Axon had given up asking her to walk on the water out to the sailboats, but Axon loved it when Mariam stood beside the lake and squeezed the warm mud between her toes. Or when she stripped off and swam in the clear water, diving sometimes to catch sight of a silver-green fish or the tentacles of an octopus peeping out from a reef crevice.
There was no sensation – hot, cold, warm, rough, slippery, prickly, or smooth – that Axon would not take in and absorb. If Mariam cut herself, Axon was fascinated by the bleeding, the scab, and the
“Last twittles: Moshi Horowitz is having palm-steamed yam for breakfast. Liam’s train is late again, but he is enjoying a bacon sandwich. Melinda is very tired, but last night was fun! Rodrigo Anamate says you must check out this link. Link unavailable. No further messages. These messages are 619,423 days old. Delete? Please repeat. Voice command only. My touch screen is damaged. Please have me serviced at your earliest convenience. I am not connected to the internet. Searching for wifi connection.”
For a while the silence is given back to the wind, to break or not as it chooses.
“No wifi detected.”
Silence again. The silence lasts the rest of the day. Today is a bright day by the standards of the era, and at times almost warm. The passage of time is uncertain. Noon is a blur in a different part of the sky, afternoon a smear near the horizon. Brown day makes way for grey dusk. Night comes swiftly. There are no stars.
The glow from the robot’s screen is a lonely light. The world retreats within it, becoming a square patch of sand with sloping sides, framing a dead man’s outstretched hand. His bones gleam like gold.
The robot is limited. It is programmed to show concern, yet not to be intrusive. In its mind, flickering so erratically now, a facsimile of compassion gives rise to a need to reassure. “I am afraid I cannot answer your last queries,” it says. “I am not equipped to make fire. I do not know how to make fire. I do not know the location of water. I cannot make water. This information is not available to me. I am not connected to the internet. I am sorry.
“You are quiet,” it says. “Are you sad?”
Again the machine falls silent as its worn brain searches for something to cheer this last master.
“I have some amusing footage of kittens, if you would like to see it.”
The night wears on. The machine’s solar charge runs out, the light dies.
The wind tucks the city back in, into its blankets of dust.
* * * * *
Copyright © 2013 Guy Haley
* * * * *
Guy Haley lives in Somerset with his wife Emma, young son Benny, a Malamute called Magnus, and an enormous, evil-tempered Norwegian forest cat called, ironically, Buddy. He has published novels with Angry Robot (the Richards & Klein series) and Solaris ( Champion of Mars ). Visit him online at [email protected].
* * * * *
* * * * *
SKY LEAP–EARTH FLAME
by Jim Hawkins
Illustrations for Sky Leap–Earth Flame by Richard Wagner
SKY LEAP–EARTH FLAME
“ Why is sky blue, Mariam?”
“I don’t know. Ask Victor.”
“Can you touch it, Mariam?”
The grass around the tanks kept itself a perfect green and at a perfect height of half an inch.There were small hills, rocky outcrops, and sudden patches of sand. Over to the east there was a lake that stretched beyond the horizon, and sometimes she spotted a sailboat with white canvas taut in the breeze.
Axon had given up asking her to walk on the water out to the sailboats, but Axon loved it when Mariam stood beside the lake and squeezed the warm mud between her toes. Or when she stripped off and swam in the clear water, diving sometimes to catch sight of a silver-green fish or the tentacles of an octopus peeping out from a reef crevice.
There was no sensation – hot, cold, warm, rough, slippery, prickly, or smooth – that Axon would not take in and absorb. If Mariam cut herself, Axon was fascinated by the bleeding, the scab, and the
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