what this blog is about

The following is a work of fiction set in a very far future. Nothing in it should be taken too seriously…

Thursday, June 28, 2012

A blind skull...


The face gave way to a blind skull, the skin flayed away as by an acid wind. Then, It became a churning mass of tentacles. It was like staring into a snake pit. 

"Enough," Elena said. "Enough."

The screens went dark again. Omni faced them. "So, that's where we stand."

"You're sure he can't get out of there?" Arlanda asked. 

"Well, we're reasonably certain. There are no direct links between the Vault and the rest of the Net."

Somehow Elena didn't feel particularly reassured. The idea of that creature lose in the Web was horrific.

 "The question now," continued Omni, "is what to do next. Any suggestions?"

Elena spoke softly but firmly. "We do nothing. We wait."

"Wait?" Arlanda asked. "Why?"

"I need," she said, "to think about something."

"What about?"

"About," she said, "identity."

Dr. Elena

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

It wasn't supposed to be like this

It wasn't supposed to be like this. The plan had been to awaken it slowly. They thought they would manifest its lower functions first. They would introduce dampers to make sure it took the form of a sleeping Baby. Then, they would gradually, so very gradually, let it age, gently leading it toward adulthood, letting it have its memories back one by one.


They'd run the simulation and everything had gone horribly wrong. The creature had exploded into the Vault, snapping the dampers like rotted string, and becoming that…that horror of fear and hatred and rage.

She watched it form and reform. Its power! Dear Syèl, its power!

They had so underestimated it, she thought. Those fools on the ship, all those years ago. They'd seen only the frail body, the fragile mind, and the sad little soul. They had never suspected that enormous Fury. That utter refusal to go quietly into the dark.

And now we've brought it back to life. Are we mad to do so?

Omni broke into her thoughts. "As you can see, It is as It was. It continues to take shape after shape, always striking at the walls with mindless fury, always trying to get out."

"It never varies in behavior?" Arlanda asked.

"Oh, marginally. There's been some modification in the things It projects. At first it was all beasts…tigers, dragons, that sort of thing. More recently, though, It has started displaying human skulls, and that screaming face you saw."

"That screaming face you saw..."

"It is a monster," the Sirana shook her head. "This is a mistake. We should destroy It. Blank the memory and never look back."

Elena wondered if she weren't right. And yet he had been human once. He lived and breathed. 
And she felt guilt. He'd done so much for them. He had asked so little return. Only to be allowed to live. To be given some small respect. To be given some tiny manifestation of amity. He hadn't really even asked for affection. Just a kind of benevolent neglect.

But they'd thrown him away. And this…this thing…was the result. 

He is the monster they created, she thought. 

But she stopped. She was the heir to that culture, to the people on that ship. Not "they." We. He is the monster we created.

As she watched a dragon give way to a screaming head. Was this what he'd looked like when he'd lived? A strangely globular face, disfigured from disease and want, pale eyes, lips dry and bleeding.

I am so, so sorry, she told it, silently. 

horror art courtesy Montag77

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

It raged


It raged.

The thing in the vault raged. Elena watched in horror. It was changing form, mutating and morphing as she watched. Sometimes it was a beast, something with great saber-fangs that dripped poison or blood. Sometimes it was the face of a screaming man. Sometimes it was a formless mass of tentacles that lashed at the walls of its prison.

And always there was the noise!  Screams of rage and horror! Bestial roars! The pounding of massive fists against the virtual metal of the vault!

"Papamellius," Arlanda cursed softly in Pantos. Then, she realized the irony of what she'd said. "I mean, damn. Or something."

Father of Demons, indeed. Doctor Elena, thought, flinching slightly at every thud of the creature's limbs on the vault's walls. Does it never tire?

It raged

(monster art work courtesy Montag77)

Monday, June 25, 2012

Chapter 5 - RAGE

Doctor Elena headed back to her office. As she walked, she continued to consider her patients. Bobbi was lovely. To be honest, she would like to make a play for the boy herself. But, she could not violate her professional ethics. 

Then there was the woman. She felt herself tensing just at the thought of the hateful creature.  That Bet person was a serious challenge to her detachment. Self-righteous, self-centered, supercilious…and those were her good qualities. There was simply no getting around the fact that she was a total bitch.

What are we going to do with her? she wondered. Well, she supposed they would think of something.
But her other patient, that was the interesting one. Also the terrifying one. If Bet challenged her calm, then the Other challenged her courage. 

Fortunately, It didn't have a body yet. It was still just a simulation running in a mainframe. But, even so, It was terrible.

And, now, she had to go visit It.


Once in her office, she seated herself behind her console. It would be a virtual visit. She would travel the Net to where It was. She put on her headset and the Cloud took shape before her. Individual computers became glowing rectangles and octagons. Communication links appeared as long shimmering lines. She took one of the lines and in a millisecond was in the lobby of the Fortress.

Two entities were waiting for her. One was another human, Sirana Arlanda, also present in virtual form. The other was Omni. But, then, Omni was everywhere. "Evening, everyone," she said, as she manifested her virtual self in the lobby. 

The Sirana, a tall and striking young woman, extended a virtual hand to be shaken. "It's morning for me. I'm in North Australia at the moment. Lovely weather."

The Sirana

"And for me," Omni said, cheerfully, "it doesn't matter a hill of beans what time it is, since, unlike you lucky humans, I don't sleep."

"Why would you want to?" Arlanda asked, smiling. "It's an awful waste of time."

"Ah," answered the avatar, "but sometimes wasting time is the most productive thing you can do."

Elena decided to change the subject. "And how is our patient?"

Omni was instantly serious. "Terrifying. Absolutely terrifying."

"No change, then?"

"Not a bit,"

She sighed. She wasn't surprised, but she had hoped that something might have changed for the better. "Well, let's face the music."

Omni nodded and the three of them 'ported to the Control Room. It was, of course, another virtual environment, located nowhere in physical space, but constructed to give humans a familiar context within the simulated world of the Cloud. It had chairs and control panels, and artificial technicians working behind consoles, and on one wall was a huge screen. At the moment, the screen was blank.

"Are we ready?" Omni asked.

Elena worked up her courage. It is just a simulation, she reminded herself. There really isn't a vault on the other side of that screen. There really isn't a creature inside it. But no matter how many times she said it, she didn't believe it.

She glanced at the Sirana. The other woman said, " Do it."

The screens flashed into life. And on the other side…

Was hell. 

Friday, June 22, 2012

The Other Was Terrifying

Outside his door, Doctor Elena considered. He would have sweet dreams. She'd made sure of that. She'd left instructions with Omni to monitor his brainwave and other neural activity. They'd keep track of his nighttime visions.

It was common for the Revived Ones to dream. In fact, it was important for them to do so. It allowed them to address the past. Frequently, it was a way for them to let go, to say good-by to what and who they had been before.

But, with murder victims, you wanted to make certain they didn't dream of terrible things. You didn't want to disturb them before they were ready to face the horror in their past lives. In some cases, it was better that they never did so.

And Bobbi might be one of those…

The boy was going to be one of her favorites, she knew. He was an interesting case, professionally speaking. He seemed to be adapting to his new body and new society with remarkable speed. 
She was a little puzzled by his choice of the name "Bobbi." Oh, it was a pretty enough name, and it seemed to suit him, but it was odd. They didn't have a great many records about who had he been and what he had done. There had been only the normal collection of identity materials attached to his cryo-pod, and those were never terribly complete. They revealed just the basics: age, next of kin, cause of death, etc.

But one thing those records had stated firmly was his name. He had been "Zackary T. Feldstein-Hanover." So, why "Bobbi?" Why not "Zackie" or something like that?

Well, it probably didn't matter. Maybe "Bobbi" had been the name of a friend or a pet. And, in any case, she knew he was going to be a delight to work with. He was so charming and so earnest. 
She sighed. Not, unfortunately, like the two other patients she was working with at the moment. One of those, the woman, was a pain in the ass.

And the other? 

It was terrifying.

Th Other was terrifying

Thursday, June 21, 2012

And to bed

After a bit, he realized that he was quite sleepy. 

Seeing him yawn, she smiled and said, "Time to tuck you in." She gestured and the two Basic robots appeared. They helped him undress and conducted him to a bathroom where he discovered that people still brushed their teeth after meals, though the "brush" was now an electronic wand that cleaned and flossed with some sort of mysterious process.
Then the Basics led him to a bed. 

As she had said, the Doctor was there to tuck him in. "Get some rest," she said. "And in the morning, we'll continue our adventures." She pulled the cover up to his chest and smiled at him. "Sweet dreams."
Then, she straightened and left. The lights dimmed and, before he knew it, he was asleep.

Sweet and Musical

They talked for a while afterwards. He asked what people did for entertainment in this day and age.

"Many things," she replied. "We read, of course. You need only ask Omni and she will display any of a great number of books and periodicals here in your room."

Omni's avatar shimmered into existence beside them. In her hands, now, was what seemed to be a book. "Allow me to demonstrate," she said. "Here's a novel that's quite popular at the moment." 
The book floated out of her hands and into the space before him. Another hologram! he realized. He stared at the cover of the thing.

"Just think 'open,'" Omni said.

He did. The image of the cover opened to reveal a title page. The Dancer From The Nonestic Sea. He glanced at this and, when he came to the end, the book flipped to the next page. Somehow it knew when he had finished reading. 

"We can watch your brain wave patterns," Omni explained. "The book will know when you're ready to move on."


Then he watched while the book folded up and vanished. "You can call it back later," the computer assured him. "Or, if you prefer a hardcopy version, we can visit the library."

"You still have printed books?"

"Oh, yes," the Doctor said. "They're quite popular. Bound books are considered a separate art form."
"Interesting," he nodded. "And does television exist?" 

She replied, "We have something like it. In 3D these days. And games. We're very fond of games and puzzles. Live music is also popular. It is considered quite charming for a boy to sing or perform upon the harp or some other instrument. In fact, you will find that you know how to do so. We put the skill into you when we remade you. You are now a quite accomplished amateur performer." 

His implanted understandings informed him that this was indeed the case, that he could sing now, and that his voice was sweet and musical.

Sunday, June 17, 2012

"You are the dominant sex now," he said.

They fell silent. She pulled him toward her and began quietly stroking his head again. He felt her fingers smooth his hair. 

The flowers moved before them in the gentle breeze."

"You are the dominant sex now," he said. "Is that right?"

She nodded again. "If you mean women have a monopoly on decision making, yes."

That didn't surprise him. Even in his own day, the balance of power had been clearly shifting toward women. But what did startle him was their sheer size. How had they become such giants?

"Are all women like you now?" he asked.

"As big as I am?"

"As big. As powerful."

"Yes, we are."

"You are the dominant sex now," he said. 

"And men? Are they all like me?"

"They aren't many of you. But, yes."

"How did that happen?"

"Oh, well, women stopped carrying children in their wombs. You remember that?"

He searched his memory with its artificial understandings. Yes, they'd abandoned giving birth a long time ago. At first, they'd had grown their children in vitro, in special laboratories, and babies had been born in incubators. But, about three hundred years ago, even that had changed. There were no more children. Instead, new people were constructed as he had been constructed, as adults, by organo-fabricators that were the direct descendants of the 3D printers he'd known in his first life.
She continued, "Spared the biological demands of motherhood, women could invest their energies as they choose. Increasingly, that meant bigger bodies. Stronger bodies. Better brains."

"And men? How did we get so small?"

"Uh," she looked at away from him, then spoke quickly, "Rather the same thing, but in reverse." 


She tried to change the subject, pointing to a couple kissing while trying to hide behind a bush across the way. "Cute couple, aren't they?"

He nodded and smiled, but the cold, methodical part of him…the part that saw inconsistencies wherever they were… took note and remembered. 

There had been a flash of emotion on her face. An expression…

Of guilt.


Saturday, June 16, 2012

not to do, but to be

She was silent for a minute, then she looked at him in an oddly calculating sort of way, as though she were evaluating him in some fashion. "Did you ever write poetry?"

"Me? Oh, no," he sighed. "I didn’t have a creative bone in my body."

"Good." She seemed a little relieved. 

"What?" It was good he wasn't creative?

"That's not your job any more," she explained. "Your purpose is not to do but to be."

"I don't understand."

She smiled and touched his face. "You will. In time."


Thursday, June 14, 2012

Lonely As A Cloud


They finally came to rest in front of a huge bed of daffodils. He laughed in delight and, to his own surprise, found himself quoting poetry:

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

She looked at him, clearly amused but also pleased. "Pardon me?"

Two things struck him. First, that he had just spoken in English. Second, that he hadn't been speaking in English since he'd awoken. It simply hadn't occurred to him that he was using a very different tongue than he'd employed before. When they were rebuilding him, they must have taught him Alona, the World's official language. He knew, somehow, that English was long dead, spoken only by a few scholars. Dr. Elena hadn't understood a word of what he'd said.

But, Alona…what sort of language was it? He found himself automatically reviewing its vocabulary and grammar. Words, roots, syntax… About a fifth of the tongue was from his own period. He detected English, Spanish, French, Hindi, Mandarin, and what he thought might be African languages. The grammar was simple and precise. And verbs were all…

The Verbs!

There were no irregular verbs! Even the verb "to be" was completely obedient to the same general set of rules that governed every other verb! Is that possible?

"Hello, hello," she said, gently, still smiling. "Are you still with us?"

"Sorry," he replied. "I was sort of …uh…thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

"Just…everything," it was too difficult to describe what he had really been thinking about. The Discontinuity. "Just thinking how different everything is."

"What was that you said a moment ago? It sounded like a song or something."

"It's a poem," he said, embarrassed. "By William Wordsworth."

"'Voord Sworth.' Was he a friend of yours?"

He giggled. He realized it had a musical sound and she smiled when he did it. "No. He lived a long time before me. He died in 1850."

"Ah, a classic, then."

"Yes, I suppose."

"Can you translate it?"

He tried, but it didn't come out well. Alona was simply not set up to convey nuance or ambiguity. Then he realized that he also knew another language—Pantos. When they'd rebuilt him, they'd made him tri-lingual, his native English, plus Alona, plus another tongue, Pantos, which he knew (somehow) was the language people used today in the Americas and Europe.

Once he was using Pantos, things were much better. Not perfect, but better. The language leant itself to poetry and prose. There were irregular verbs and double entendres. And there were a host of puns. 
It was also very gendered. A woman used "Ah," to mean "I." A boy used "ye." Like Latin and the Romance languages, it made heavy use of case endings.

When he was done, she nodded. "Lonely as a cloud," she repeated, looking out over the flowers. "Lonely…but then saved by the golden daffodils. That's nice." 

She indicated the grass behind them. "Let's sit." They sat on the ground and looked over the blooms. "You knew a lot of poetry?" 

"I liked it," he admitted. "I liked it a lot."

"Did many men like poetry in your day?"

He smiled, a little bitterly. "No. Or women, either. Poetry was no longer one of the popular arts when I was alive."

"You are alive now," 

"I meant the first time."

"I see." 

Saturday, June 9, 2012

There was something weirdly erotic in giving up control

There was something weirdly erotic about it all.

He was passive as a doll while they dressed him. Or a child. He had had no say in how he appeared. Yet, there was something strangely sexual about that. In giving up control.

Finished with his clothing, the two devices led him to a vanity table and a chair before a mirror. He sat and they did his hair. They applied tint to his lips and rouge to his cheeks. He stared amazed at the face that was taking shape in the mirror. 

They applied tint to his lips...

They helped him rise. He turned towards her. 

"Breathtaking" the Doctor said once more. "You are fabulous."

Instinctively, he didn't believe her. For a second, he even wondered if she were mocking him. But, then, he caught sight of her expression. She was gazing at him, her eyes wide and admiring.

My heavens, he thought. She's serious. How very, very strange. 

She rose. "Are you ready to meet the world?"

"I…" he gulped. "I guess I am."

"Excellent," she came and took him by the arm. "Let us begin." 

He allowed her to lead him away.

He knew, of course, that he neither could nor would do otherwise.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

They will dress you...

"Now," Elena added, "shall we begin?"

He nodded dumbly. This was all so new and so strange.

Omni said, "Excellent. Let me bring you some garments." And, at that, two things entered the room. He stared at them, too. They were smallish, just about his size, and very graceful, but clearly not human. They were made of some kind of metal!


Oh, of course. He remembered. The faint understandings that had been planted in his new brain made themselves known. There were robots everywhere in this day and age. They ranged from huge machines in automated factories to small personal servants, like these. Somehow, he also knew that these two particular robots were rather limited devices, "Basics," as they were known. They performed low level tasks. 

"There are others," Dr. Elena said, guessing his thoughts. "They are much more advanced. You'll meet some later. In fact, you'll have one."

"Oh, and I'm in all the 'bots," Omni added. "Their intellects are connected to mine. In effect, they are all parts of me. Though," and here the Avatar looked slightly pained, "some parts of me are a little more independent than others."

He didn't have time to think about the remark because the two robots glided silently towards him. He froze, not knowing what to do.

"Just stand," Elena told him gently. "They will dress you."

They will dress you...

He obeyed and the two devices came to him. Each took one of his hands. Their metal skins were surprisingly warm and tender. For a moment, he resisted, but then he heard Dr. Elena say, "It's all right. Just relax. Let them care for you." So, he remained passive as they began their ministrations. 

One of the two machines went to a near-by armoire. Inside was clothing, carefully folded in a cheerful profusion of bright colors. 

Oh, yes! He recalled, now. Once more, the memories they'd implanted in his re-grown brain made themselves known. Personal modesty had gone the way of the horse and buggy. People these days wore the most revealing costumes imaginable. For women, that meant tight fitting garments, sort of like a leotard or a catsuit.  Dr. Elena's was bluish, with openings at the nipples and at points around the hands.

Men—known as "Bishoni" here— preferred clothing made from sheer or transparent materials that hid nothing, or very little. One usually began with a set of translucent underwear, known locally as "trunks," though they were strictly optional.  Then, you slipped on a one-piece robe-like garment called "a toga" or "dress shirt." Other possibilities included something known as a "romper," which was a very short bodysuit that fastened with a snap at the crotch. Sometimes these would be augmented by a broad belt or cravat. 

For a moment, he wondered how anyone kept warm on cold days. But, then, he remembered that the clothing was made of intelligent synthetic fabrics—NuSatin, i-Sylc—that were sheer but active. They were like computers in fiber form. They would sense when he was chill and grow warm. They would know when it was hot and cool him. 

The robot returned with a toga. He stood again and allowed them to dress him. The garments settled around him. They seemed to move by themselves, taking his form and adjusting to his shape. 
"Marvelous," Dr. Elena said. "Truly breathtaking. "

Breathtaking? What on earth was she talking about? He wondered. 

Well, he decided, maybe he'd figure it out in time.


Monday, June 4, 2012



"Would you care for a walk?" she asked. "We could take a tour of the Center and the grounds."

He nodded. "That would be nice." Then he remembered he was naked. "I'll need clothing."

She smiled. "Nudity is not the issue it was once. But, for your comfort, let us have you dressed." Then, she seemed to speak to the air itself, "Oh, Omni."

To his amazement, something shimmered into being in the room. There, standing in front of them, was a tall figure, like a woman, though with a strangely colored skin and hair. But what was truly bizarre was that it was possible to see through her. She was slightly transparent.

"I am the dominant persona..."

It smiled at him. "Good morning," it said. "I hope I didn't frighten you."

He goggled at her. "What…?"

"This," Dr. Elena said, "is Omni. Or, rather, a three dimensional holographic projection of Omni. Her avatar."

"I am the dominant persona of the World Computing Network," Omni herself added. "Do you recall the Internet of your period? Well, I’m the direct descendent of it."

"I…" he sat, stunned.

"We'll get along fine," the shimmering figure said, "I'm sure."

Saturday, June 2, 2012

"Oh, That Little Pout"


Five hundred years? He'd been dead five hundred years!

She sensed his distress and hugged him. "But there will be lots of time to worry about things like that later," she said. "Besides, you will want to meet your present before you worry about your past."

Did he? Yes, he supposed he did. Yet, he felt vaguely rebellious. He wanted to know more about who'd killed him and why. 

"Oh, that little pout!" She laughed and touched his lips with her index finger. "Adorable! You'll drive us quite mad I'm afraid. Women will be lining up for you."

He very much doubted that. If history was anything to go by, women would avoid him. He was one of those men who women simply do not see. At least, not as men.

Oh, he'd been liked. He was the man in the office that everyone knew was "A Really Nice Guy." He was the fellow in the cubicle down the hall that everyone knew you "could count on." He was the chap you could safely share your troubles with. He was the sweet boy who was always supportive and never judged.

But, nice as he was, there was something about him that turned people off. Or didn't turn them on. Partly it was because he was small, and pudgy, and a little soft around the edges. And perhaps he had been a bit too agreeable. Or, as he heard it expressed by two female co-workers who didn’t know he was listening, "He's sweet. But like a Yorkiepoo." And, unless you were one sick puppy yourself, you didn't go to bed with Yorkiepoos.

But he didn't tell Doctor Elena any of this. He simply shook his head and sighed.


Friday, June 1, 2012

Chapter 2 - Robots


"But I don't remember dying," he objected, softly. "Not exactly." All he had was the horrific images of the man with the gun. And…a laughing woman?

She had helped him back to the chaise. He was there, now, clutching his Teddy, while she sat beside him, her arms comfortingly around his shoulders. 

"It will take a while for all your memories to come back," she reassured him. "Which is a good thing. Some events you don't want to recall until you are fully healed."

"I was," he swallowed, "frozen?"

"Yes. In liquid nitrogen. Or, your head was, anyway. I believe you called it 'Cryonics.'"

He knew the term, but only vaguely. The idea was that you froze yourself, preserved your body, and then, after many years, and after the technology had advanced sufficiently to make it possible, some future culture would bring you back to life. Other than that, though, he was clueless. "So, you …what?...reanimated me?"

"In a sense," she explained. "We couldn't actually revive your brain, of course. There was far too much damage from the freezing process itself." But they could claim his chemical memories, RNA/DNA, send nanobots to trace out ancient neural connections, and generally extract his memories from the ice. 
Then, they had constructed a new body for him. They'd built it layer-by-layer, cell-by-cell, atom-by-atom, using nanomachines, and put his psyche into it. "Along," she went on, "with a number of new understandings and assumptions to make it easier for you to adapt to current conditions." 

"I don't recall doing that either. Signing up, I mean, to be frozen."

"Again, it will come to you, in time."

He nodded, but felt somehow uncertain. Cryonics wasn't something he'd been interested in when he'd been alive the first time. His existence back then hadn’t been terrible, but it hadn't been terrific either. The idea of extending his life for all eternity seemed a little frightening.

"How long?" he asked. "How long was I dead."

"We're not entirely sure. A lot of records were lost in the Years of Impasse. But, we are pretty certain you died in the early Twenty-First century."

"Which was?"

"About five hundred years ago."

He gasped.



He had been having bad dreams. 

He awoke, slowly, and uncertainly. He remembered the dreams, but only in tatters and shreds. There been a number of very cruel people in them. A man who was a brother, but not brotherly. And another man, this one with a strange sickle-shaped mark on his face…and a gun in his hand. Then, something huge and metal had been rushing at him from out of the night. That was followed by a nightmarish hospital filled with people rushing about. And, finally, there was a woman, smirking and hateful.

It had all been very, very strange, and terribly disturbing. He was glad to awaken and escape those visions. He opened his eyes. Where was he? He tried to remember. Of course, he thought, the Center. But, for some reason, he couldn't quite get a handle on what "the Center" was.

He wasn't in bed. Instead, he was half sitting, half reclining on a chaise lounge. It was very comfortable and warm. He was nude, he realized, but he was covered with a blue sheet of silky, almost transparent material. He felt something fuzzy under one arm. Oh, that's Teddy. His teddy bear was with him. It seemed perfectly natural that he would have a teddy bear. He pulled it a little closer.

I must have dozed off, he thought. 

But he was so groggy. He tried to clear his head. He glanced around the room. It was richly furnished and luxurious. There were thick carpets on the floors, paintings on the walls, and pieces of exquisite furniture here and there. A sitting room? A drawing room? Something like that, anyway.

Then he realized he wasn't alone. Seated in a huge chair near him was a woman. He knew her…but he wasn’t sure how he knew her. She was athletic and tall. He guessed she was easily over six feet, that is, two meters. Her bright, intelligent face regarded him. 

Who? Oh, of course! It was Doctor Elena from the Center. How could he have not recognized her?

She smiled at him. Somewhat sheepishly, he smiled back. "I must have dozed off," he said, in his soft, musical voice. 

"You've been …asleep, yes," she replied. 

"How long was I napping?" 

"A little while,"

He stretched. The blue sheet of transparent cloth slipped away from him. He was surprised to see her react. Her eyes seemed to open a little further and she leaned forward as if to get a better look at him.
It was confusing. But, he stood, pulling the sheet to one side and putting his Teddy on the chaise. He heard her sigh slightly. What was she looking at?

He looked down at his naked body. It was small and smooth. There was a full-length mirror on one wall and he went and looked at himself. He saw a round face, blond hair, fair skin, large nipples, penis, testicles, and smooth legs and chest. He seemed tiny, and fresh, and delicate, and he took pride in his appearance. Pretty, he thought.

Yet, again, strange memories came into his head. He seemed to recall another body, one that was pale, and broken. Odd. 

Dr. Elena rose and came behind him. She gently put her hands on his shoulders. "Do you recognize yourself?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Of course." 

"Good," she said. "Very good. That's excellent."

He continued to gaze into the mirror. "Yes, well…" 

"Do you remember your name?"

He laughed. "Of course I do. My name is Feldstein-Hanover." Or, to be precise, he was Robert Gray Feldstein-Hanover. He paused and considered. "But I'd prefer it if you called me Bobbi."

"Why Bobbi?"

He realized he wasn't sure. "Bobbi" just seemed so much more fitting than that ponderous four-decker name he had possessed. It seemed lighter, somehow. Less of a burden. "I can't really say. I just, well, I just want to be Bobbi."

"Then Bobbi it shall be," she said, pleasantly. "Now for the next step."


"Keep looking into the mirror. Tell me what you see."

"Well," he looked. "I see my face. My body."

"And what do you think?"

He smiled, again sheepishly. "I am embarrassed to say it."

"Be honest. I am not here to judge."

"I… I think I'm rather attractive."

She nodded, clearly pleased. "That's good, too. And don't be embarrassed. A little vanity is cute. And besides, you are attractive. You are a lovely, lovely little boy."

"Am I?"

"Indeed you are." She looked at his face in the mirror. "But regard yourself. What else do you see?"

He did so. What else? For a moment, he didn't see anything. Then, strangely, the surface of the mirror seemed to shimmer. He stared intently. What?


All the images from his dreams came spinning into his head. They were intense, now, and horrible! The man with the gun! The hospital with the doctors like demons in white coats! Then…ice…long, long years of ice.

He fell. She caught him and lifted him up, tenderly holding him.

He found his breath. "I was dead."

"Yes," she agreed, stroking his head. "But now you are alive."

NOTE: the first book of Bobbi's adventures has just gone on Amazon. You can see it here.

Welcome...to Bobbi's curious world

Welcome to Bobbi's world, a romance of the very far future.

Nothing you are about to read should be taken too seriously. It is meant to be only one thing: a readable story. Should I succeed in that, I will have more than obtained my goals.

If you wish to read more about the background of Bobbi and his curious future world, then please go to the “Introduction,” which is an essay on the subject. But, if you would rather go straight to the fiction, which is probably a good deal more interesting, then skip to the fiction.

Also, a word of warning, there are references to sex in what follows. Among the illustrations, there are many nudes. These are not meant to be erotica. They are parody not porn. But nudes and references to sex they are. So, exercise due caution.

One last note, everything on this site is protected by both copyright and the Creative Commons mark. You may forward it, if you wish, to others, but only if you leave it unchanged and keep my name on it.