I looked at Gordon.
‘What was it?’
‘Looked like one of them there Japanese silver bullet trains.’
‘Come off it. They’ve only had them a year or two.’
‘Secret test, maybe. I saw the prototype Deltic in Penrith before they entered service. Thought I was seeing things then too.’
‘This were no Deltic, lad.’
Well, no. And that was the end of it. Until, well, it must have been fifty years on, with Virgin’s red and the silver bullet trains now commonplace, when Bill and I were talking about the old days over a few drinks in the Railway Club.
‘Ever hear anything more about… you know? That train.’
‘Not a peep, lad. I sometimes wonder if it happened.’
‘Same here. Ask myself if I’m going funny.’
‘Neither of us is.’
‘How do you mean?’
He reached into his jacket pocket.
‘This, my son, will put your mind at rest. I’ve carried it with me all these years.’
I looked.
‘A Rocket Bar wrapper?’
‘Correct. From 1965.’
‘So?’
‘Lad, Rocket Bars didn’t come out till the Nineties. Neither had this.’
He produced a meticulously folded paper:
‘Plus, a plastic bag of similar stuff, off the tracks, at home.’
‘No one could throw anything out of a modern train.’
That much was true, and still is.
‘Maybe – whatever it was – carried the changes with it.’
‘Could it still be around? Bill, we’re into sci fi now.’
‘No answer to that one, lad. All we can do is keep watching the tracks.’
Yes. Keep watching the tracks. Forget the skies.
the end About the author
Pierre le Gue is a retired teacher. He has been reading and watching science fiction since 1947 and has been published in a variety of genres, specialist journals and local newspapers. He has appeared in four of our previous collections, sometimes writing as Peter Ford, and was a prize winner in a previous science fiction competition. The dry humour of his golfing stories enhanced the pages of our Fusion and Synthesis anthologies. A gifted writer, Pierre is also a published poet and children’s author.
FROZEN FIRE
Rachel Lovat
We, humans, have spread across the universe since the unfortunate demise of our home planet to catastrophic climate change. Still, no matter how far we expand into the cosmos, life hasn’t been found with an intelligence that matches our own.
Most people secretly dream of being the one to make first contact. Not me though, all I dream about is getting my next paycheck from the company. It’s starting to look like the universe is a barren place. Maybe that’s for the best, after all, there’s no guarantee that the aliens we meet will be happy to see us and consider us equal; they could be so far above us that they don’t even view us as a sentient lifeform.
So, we humans have the universe all to ourselves. Which is very fortunate for me, as no one can complain when planets are mined for resources across the galaxy; until there are no usable resources left on their surface. I’m what’s known as a cartographer of sorts. I track down the next planet, with enough viable resources to be worth my company’s while.
I’m only one of many cartographers assigned to this same task. If my planet isn’t chosen then I won’t get that glorious commission. Without it, my family will be stuck on Alpha seven for another year at least. It’s a planet with a barely breathable atmosphere, that’s far too overcrowded to be a pleasant place for young children to live; they deserve so much more.
I finally land my small shuttle on the surface of the latest unexplored planet I have selected. It doesn’t have a name yet, but in my head, I’m calling it Frostbite because, even upon entry, I can see that the entire planet is covered in layers of snow and ice.
I add it to the galactic map with a tap to my wrist that activates the chip lodged under my skin that connects to Lance (Long-range, Analytic, Network, Collective, Experience is too much of a mouthful to say more than once.)
The chip under my skin allows me to tap into that wealth of knowledge and add to it as needed. Every citizen of the coalition is required to get one by the age of sixteen, failure to do so would result in becoming classed as a non-citizen. All of your human rights would be null and void from that point onward.
After putting on my space suit, I open the hatch set into the right side of my craft. Immediately a gust of cold air slams into me.
Lance then starts to inform me of the status of the planet, in its preprogrammed robotic male voice that always sounds like a professor talking down to a student.
Thank you for activating me, James. The atmosphere is unbreathable, taking off your suit would lead to certain death. Parts of the planet seem to be severely colder than is safe for human habitation. Spending time in these areas would result in your body suffering from hypothermia and eventually expiring. Gravity is well within an acceptable range for your vehicle to function as expected. There are traces of minerals and resources on the planet’s surface. The closest one is five hundred miles away to the north. I will mark the location on your map. Ensure that you remember without direct visual confirmation of the value of this planet, the company will not accept your planet as a viable candidate. All commission will, therefore, be null and void even if this planet proves to be profitable to the company later.
‘I know, Lance, you really don’t need to tell me how to do my job. I’ve been doing it just fine for years now.’ Lance is permanently in the head of every member of the coalition, latent until you activate the chip, for the times when you don’t want the company peering through your eyes.
It’s hard to imagine how people coped without Lance. It’s such an intrinsic part of daily life now, but it’s still irritating when it tries to tell me the correct way to do my job. It’s like an all-seeing overseer breathing down my neck.
I pull the small quad bike through the hatch and out of my shuttle. It should get me to the deposit in about an hour, assuming there are no unforeseen issues.
I reach down and start the engine. Its soft purring sound, which is solely for effect, fills the atmosphere. The thing runs off electricity but I like the retro feel it gives me. I start to drive towards the mineral deposit. The main thing to look out for on a planet that mostly consists of ice are the crevices; fall into one of these and I would be stuck until help arrived. It would be goodbye to my commission, and help doesn’t always arrive in time. I could starve. It happened recently to one of my colleagues, or competition, as we like to refer to each other.
Space is vast and the company doesn’t exactly care if we make it back safe and sound, that responsibility falls solely on our own shoulders.
The snow gets progressively thicker as I approach the deposit of unknown minerals.
You should vacate this sector as soon as possible, you are passing through an area that has lower temperatures than your suit can withstand.
‘Lance there’s no need to state the obvious. Where’s the next deposit that might be of interest?’
Exactly one thousand three hundred and fifty-five miles to the east of your current location.
‘I’ll keep on target for the first deposit. I’ll deviate from it if the cold starts to get to me.’ I really don’t want this to take more time than it has to.