Nature Futures, page 32
“Mr. Loop, I might have guessed. Are any secrets safe from you? But I think for now you’ve said enough.”
The pig takes in Kirsty’s questioning look, glances over at a now dramatically glowering Frank, before returning its attention to the child. Offering what passes for a porcine shrug and a forlorn my-lips-are-sealed wrinkling of its snout, the little animatronix bounces onto Kirsty’s lap and snuggles down for the ride.
After a painless drive through the ’burbs, they are out in the foothills. Shortly afterward, they pull up alongside the transfer station—no magtrak beyond this point.
Timecheck. The sun still hovers over the island of glass and concrete that they have left behind, but the sky has already lost its familiar ochre tint. Sunset is little more than an hour away.
“OK, kiddo, wrap up warm.”
Frank climbs swiftly into his weatherproof and hands a miniature but more colorful version to an oblivious Kirsty. For the past twenty minutes her face has been pressed up against the window, gazing wide-eyed at the surrounding countryside. And now, free of both the car and the claustrophobic air filter, she stands transfixed by the row-upon-row of four-wheeled antiques parked all around them. (Mr. Loop on the other hand gives the impression of being fast asleep, but—as befits a miniature replica of the comically self-important children’s entertainer—is probably still sulking.)
A gust of chill mountain air snaps Kirsty out of her reverie. Thermals donned, backpacks stowed, and inert pig pocketed, the two slide into a brilliant-red, open-topped barchetta. Now it is Frank’s turn to shiver with anticipation. The last time he drove one of these he was barely out of his teens, yet he still remembers the thrill of opening up the throttle and hearing the throaty roar of a real engine. And roar it does, right on cue, eliciting a squeal of excitement from the diminutive passenger—and the sweet taste of long-forbidden fruit for the driver. From here, the only way is up.
Final destination: Look-See Point. After a jarring drive up rough mountain tracks, Frank parks beside one of the crumbling domed structures scattered across the high plateau. He gathers a couple of folding chairs and strides hurriedly toward some clear ground. Kirsty only just keeps up and can barely hide her disappointment when she finally settles herself into a chair and looks around.
“Aw, they’re just ruins.”
“Never mind those old stones, kiddo. I promised to show you the heavens, and I will. But for now just watch … and wait.”
A glance at his watch again: ten minutes to go. Frank smiles in relief. The number of favors he had to call in to pull this off—not to mention the cost of getting a prime-time slot—will not have been wasted.
With the sky now darkened to an inky black, Kirsty spots the first tiny pinpoints of light. “Stars,” her uncle had called them. Sure, they seem to map out some pretty shapes, but she still can’t see what the fuss is all about. To cover her mounting gloom, she returns to playing with the pig.
Then the heavens explode with splashes of light and color. One after another, familiar and unfamiliar objects parade across the sky: items of food, items of clothing, items of… well, just about anything a young mind can imagine, and a lot, lot more. Faster and faster the images race by until all that remains is a pulsating emerald sheet. The rippling edges of this curtain of light then start to bend and twist, turning in on one another, transforming, transfixing, becoming …
“Mr. Loop!”
Frank beams down at his niece. Kirsty, now on her feet, has one hand clamped over her mouth, the other outstretched as if trying to grab the sky itself. About her, the animated toy frolics, uttering decidedly unpiglike yelps as it flings itself repeatedly into the air. And its luminous namesake responds in kind, leaping nimbly from one celestial point to another, and leaving in its wake a glowing contrail that resolves into the words “HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIRSTY.” Fade to green. Commercial services will resume shortly.
Frank sweeps his now-exhausted niece into his arms and carries her slowly back to the Jeep, the miniature Mr. Loop trotting contentedly in their wake. But Kirsty’s tired eyes remain locked on the heavens as assorted consumer items recommence their endless auroral display.
“Show’s over, kiddo. That’s enough ’rory for one night.”
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in these stories are either products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously.
NATURE FUTURES
Copyright © 2007 by Macmillan Publishers, Ltd.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Nature Futures/ edited by Henry Gee.—1st ed.
p. cm.
“A Tom Doherty Associates Book.”
ISBN-13: 978-0-7653-1805-3
ISBN-10: 0-7653-1805-9
1. Science fiction, American. 2. Future—Fiction. 3. Forecasting—Fiction. 4. Evolution—Fiction. I. Gee, Henry, 1962–
PS648.S3F936 2007
813’.0876608—dc22
2007024924
First Edition: November 2007
eISBN 9781466861312
First eBook edition: November 2013
Henry Gee, Nature Futures
