Category: Fiction Factor

“This is freakin’ awesome.”

Tex Flannery touched down on the Princess of Pleasure luxury liner and marveled at how clean and fancy the massive commercial ship was. For a man whose last trip on the water was a drunken ride on a pontoon boat, this was paradise.

“See, guys, this is what it’s like to live the good life,” he said to his three travel companions – brother Toby Flannery and friends Ellis Baxter and Jimmy Slatfield, all lined up behind him. “Them billionaire boys know how to throw a party, don’t they?”

For years the Body of Benevolent Billionaires – a group of 10 of the world’s richest men – had combined their considerable resources for space missions, deep sea explorations and plenty of exotic, headline-grabbing ventures. But charity work? That really wasn’t on their agenda. They were simply finding new ways to make themselves even richer and more famous, and they were succeeding. People like Tex didn’t seem to mind at all.

But the BBB hoped to change that perception with its “No News Is Good News Cruise,” an unprecedented event taking place all across the globe and open to everyone who chose to participate.

Ships were gathered at every port – welcoming people from all walks of life – for a 10-day, all-expenses paid cruise.

Tex and his entourage were among the millions of people who would take advantage of the free vacation, courtesy of BBB.

The catch?

There was no catch, unless you were a news junkie.

On the “No News Is Good News Cruise,” passengers would have all their phones and personal computers taken from them for the duration of the voyage. For a week and three days, they would be living in their own private world.

“This will be a cruise in which you can relax and recharge,” said billionaire businessman Oakley Attar, who made the announcement live on social media three months before the September 18 sailaway. “You can be with your friends and loved ones and enjoy days and nights filled with great music, wonderful food and the lost art of conversation. For 10 days you won’t have to hear about war, crime, disease … none of the horrors that continue to plague our planet. Thus, the name ‘No News Is Good News.’ We trust this will be the most memorable getaway of your lifetime and when it ends, you’ll have a fresh new perspective on life.

Tex and his entourage were leaving from the Port of New Orleans, and their travel route was Key West, Freeport and Nassau.

They had already checked their luggage at the cruise terminal (where they were issued photo ID cards), and greeted by uniformed security as they stepped off the gangway.

“Tex Flannery, Harahan, Louisiana … good to see you, chief,” he said as the smiling guard – the name tag on his  crisp, white shirt identified him as Captain Benzer – looked at his card.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Flannery,” Benzer said, scanning him quickly with a wand. “Just for our records, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m an electrician,” Tex said. “Been working at Allied Electric since the late 1990s, I’m proud to say.”

“Very good,” Benzer replied, placing a red dot on his card and handing him a sheet of paper. “All the information about your quarters is on you handout, as well as the itinerary. Happy to have you with us and enjoy your stay, sir.”

“We will, and you pass along my thanks to ol’ Oakley. That man is a real visionary. Maybe the next time he decides to do something nice for everybody he’ll give us all one of those big, silver City Tanks. If they weren’t so expensive, I’d have one in my driveway right now.”

Toby, Ellis and Jimmy went through the same process with Benzer. Toby was also an electrician and given a red dot while Ellis was a floor manager at a lumber yard and received a green dot. Jimmy was the oldest of the group and retired, earning a white dot on his passenger card.

“Just out of curiosity,” Tex asked, “what are the dots for?”

“Honestly, sir, that’s a surprise,” Benzer said. “We have some activities planned for our guests and the colored dots will help us figure out how to divide everyone up.”

“Oh, I hope it’s dodgeball,” Tex said. “Ain’t nothing quite as fun as raring back and plunkin’ somebody.”

The “No News Is Good News Cruise” lived up to its billing, and for the next nine days Tex and the more than 1,200 passengers lived like kings and queens.

The dance floor was always open, the food and booze flowed freely … it was a fantasy made real. However, following day seven some of the passengers noticed flashes of light in the night sky, and by the eighth day there was a red hue as far as the eye could see.

“Something’s wrong here, Tex,” Jimmy said. “I keep asking the security people what’s going on, but they keep telling me there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Then don’t worry about it,” Tex snapped. “Don’t you think Oakley Attar knows what he’s doing? You know what … I’ll bet him and the other billionaire boys are puttin’ on fireworks shows for all the people that couldn’t come on the cruise. Yep … I bet you money that’s it.”

However – as Day 10 dawned – the Princess of Pleasure had headed even further out to sea, and it was joined in the ocean by what appeared to be an armada of other luxury liners.

As buzz from the guests increased, an announcement blared from the ship’s loudspeaker system.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention. On behalf of Oakley Attar and his associates, we hope you’ve enjoyed your vacation. However, now it’s time to get to work. The earth as you knew it no longer exists. Cities have been leveled through nuclear engagement, and the Body of Benevolent Billionaires have assumed effective control of all world governmental functions. Over the past two decades, we have overseen the construction of 10 massive underground bunkers in which we will form a new society known as UnderGroundEarth.”

The announcement continued as armed personnel surrounded the exits of the ship.

“Those of you with red and green dots on your card will be eligible for maintenance work. Green dots, blue dots and orange dots will be dealt with on a case-by case basis, with the possibility of more skilled labor opportunities. All red, green and blue dots should present your card to one of our associates you’ll see wearing brown shirts and caps, and you’ll be taken to a work vessel. Once there you’ll be screened and considered for permanent or temporary entry into one of our facilities. Those of you with white dots are, I’m afraid, ineligible for UnderGroundEarth. But we have reserved one of the ships for your convenience, and you are welcome to stay there as nuclear winter sets in. We hope you enjoyed the ‘No News Is Good News Cruise’ as much as we enjoyed making it possible.”

Tex looked at his card and walked toward the first man he saw wearing a brown shirt and hat.

“I guess I’m supposed to give this to you,” he said. “One thing though … that Benzer fellow talked about how the dots would be used to divide up everybody. Are we not gonna play dodgeball?”

The G.I.N.A. (General Intelligence Nurturing Automaton) model had been around for decades, although their numbers had dwindled thanks to the production of newer, more lifelike robot companions.

G.I.N.A. looked very much like a standard feminine mannequin once found in 20^th century department stores – slight smile, arching brows, slender fingers and thin build. The skin tone and hair were about the only custom features requested by buyers, although they came from the factory translucent gray in color and topped with jet black hair, styled to look like a 1970s wedge.

The male version – G.R.E.G. (General Reasoning Empathy Golem) – was a bit bulkier, but also rolled off the assembly line gray and with a brunette bowl cut.

Paulie Statin had selected a generic floor model decades before, in the hopes that his G.I.N.A. would provide a bit of companionship and some help around the house.

He had never married or had children, and his friends were better defined as acquaintances – fellow workers who he engaged in friendly conversation but didn’t socialize with after hours. Once he retired, even that was gone.

But G.I.N.A. – he never bothered to personalize the robot so he just removed the periods and called it “Gina” – had been a part of his life for so long it seemed almost real.

All the general models had artificial intelligence that evolved over time, and Gina had learned to do things like play checkers and chess, follow plot lines in movies and television programs, and even “enjoy” music.

Paulie loved to garden but had been dealing with painful back issues since he was in his 30s, so Gina was a huge help when it came to planting and harvesting. In addition, robotic strength made it very handy with household repairs – a talent its owner sorely lacked.

Conversations between Paulie and Gina were never particularly deep, but always pleasant … Gina had acquired the ability to smile and laugh. Perhaps it wasn’t human, but he didn’t really care. Frankly – after all this time – it just didn’t seem to matter anymore. Paulie had a companion, and one he could always count on day in and day out.

But Gina had developed a habit of looping sentences, sometimes to the point where Paulie had to remove the battery from its back and reinsert it. Lately, though, not even that was rectifying the problem.

So, he guided Gina into his station wagon, and it was off the Midland Robotic Showroom and Repair Shop. There, he hoped he could find a relatively inexpensive fix to the problem.

“Yes,” Paulie said, walking into the service entrance of MRS&RS with Gina at his side. “I was wondering if I could talk to someone about a repair for my G.I.N.A.”

“Certainly,” replied a woman in a forest green, reflective jumpsuit and clear goggles. “I’m Technician Farah 27, the lead maintenance specialist. What seems to be the problem?”

Paulie turned to Gina and asked what the weather forecast was for the rest of the evening.

“Partly cloudy skies, low of 67, light winds from the east, air quality fair,” it said in a rattling monotone. “Partly cloudy skies, low of 67, light winds from the east, air quality fair. Partly cloudy skies, low of 67, light winds from the east, air quality fair. Partly cloudy skies, low of 67, light winds from the east, air quality fair …”

“She’ll go on like this for a while,” Paulie said. “Not sure what it is, but I figured someone here would certainly know.”

Farah 27 nodded, walked behind Gina, popped out its battery and shined a green, glowing light inside.

“Well,” she said. “I’ve got some great news and some bad news. The bad news is, its AI app is starting to wear out, so this sentence looping is only gonna get worse. At some point it won’t be able to walk, and after that you’ll be left with an inoperative G.I.N.A. You might still be able to communicate with it in a very rudimentary way, but even that’s doubtful. Here’s the great news, though; we’re coming out with Next Generation G.I.N.A. and G.R.E.G. products starting in 2133, so if you donate yours to us, we can make you part of our pilot program that starts in three months. That means you can get a G.I.N.A. 2 or G.R.E.G. 2 at factory cost, which will be about 6,000 less corporate credits than the general public will have to pay. So, turns out, this is your lucky day.”

Farah 27 looked at the battery and began to head back to her work station.

“Wait a minute,” Paulie said. “What are you doing with the battery?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I figured you didn’t need it anymore. I assumed you were going to leave your old G.I.N.A. here with us. Then I was gonna sign you up for the program.”

“No, I don’t think I want to do that right now,” Paulie said, holding out his hand. “Just give me back the battery, please.”

Farah 27 was puzzled.

“Well, I mean, sure, it’s yours … but this offer won’t last long. If you come back next week, I can’t guarantee you a Next Gen model. And as I said, I can’t really fix it.”

“That’s OK,” Paulie said.

He thanked the technician for her time and walked Gina back to his car, where he opened the passenger door and watched it get inside. After he cranked the car and pulled out into the street, Gina looked at him.

“The Midland Robotic Showroom and Repair Shop technician said I cannot be repaired,” it said. “The Midland Robotic Showroom and Repair Shop technician said I cannot be repaired. The Midland Robotic Showroom and Repair Shop technician said I cannot be repaired. The Midland Robotic Showroom and Repair Shop technician said I cannot be repaired.”

Paulie reached out with his right hand and gently rubbed Gina’s cheek.

“That’s all right, Gina,” he said. “You’ve taken care of me for so many years, the least I can do is take care of you now.”

The field goal would have to travel 64 yards, and kicking it between the goalposts – into a fickle wind – would make the feat all the more difficult. With only one tick remaining on the clock and his final timeout burned, however, Ocean State University coach Miller Faber had little choice.

The chances of a successful Hail Mary were slim – Evergreen Tech had stymied the Sharks’ passing attack all night – and Merrill Quatro regularly booted 60-plus yarders at practice.

No, with his squad down 23-21, the quirky sidewinder was his best option.

“Kicking team!” Faber shouted.

Quatro slipped on his helmet and before taking the field, stopped and looked at his coach.

“Which one am I gonna get, coach?” Quatro asked.

“What are you talking about?” Faber replied, watching as the rest of his team prepared to line up on the Evergreen 47-yard line. “Which what?”

“You know, one of your clichés. I think the first one came at the team meeting my freshman year, about how football is like the game of life. That’s a good one … makes me chuckle.”

Faber was irritated. A berth in the Begonia Bowl was on the line, and winning this game – on the road against more than 50,000 mostly hostile fans – was all Faber was thinking about.

“Son,” Faber snapped. “Right now isn’t the time or the place … I used up all the rah-rah stuff in the locker room and I’m not in a joking mood. Why don’t you just go out there and do what you’ve done a thousand times, OK?”

Quatro took a few steps forward and then turned around.

“It’s just that I’ve had four years to think about it, and it seems too simplistic,” Quatro said. “I understand in football, as in life, we face adversity and have to overcome challenges, so I get where you’re coming from. But every game we know there are going to be four, 15-minute quarters, a 20-minute halftime, and the game will end with a winner and a loser, even if it takes overtime. Life isn’t that cut and dried.”

Faber shook his head.

“Just get out there, dammit!” Faber screamed.

Quatro scampered onto the field behind the holder, took two quick digs into the turf with his right foot, and waited for the snap to the holder.

Before the ball came spiraling out of the hands of the center, though, Tech called a timeout in an effort to ice the kicker.

Quatro headed back to the sideline.

“See,” he said. “That’s a perfect example. “They still had a timeout they could use, but in life sometimes you don’t have a timeout. Sometimes you have no time … and sometimes you have a lot of time. Really, I don’t think life is a game at all. And football? It’s just football. If it’s like anything, it’s like rugby. You know, rugby started at the Rugby School in England back in 1845 …”

Faber vigorously rubbed his forehead with his left hand, and pulled his cap off with his right.

“Merrill,” he said. “For the love of all that’s holy, will you just please kick the ball? As a favor … to me. Hit it, miss it, I don’t even care at this point. Let’s just end this conversation, and then you can end the game.”

Quatro winked and double-timed back to his spot.

There were no more timeouts to be called, so the ball was snapped, placed down by the holder, and quickly met with the thunderous thud of his instep.

Quatro watched the ball break slightly to the right before curving back to the left, easily splitting the posts and clearing the crossbar with plenty of room to spare.

The few hundred Ocean State fans on hand erupted in cheers, while the rest of the fans sat in stunned silence as their team had lost on one of the longest field goals ever kicked in college football.

The holder – a backup quarterback – lifted Quatro into the air, and many of his teammates joined in the celebration. Quatro glanced at Faber, who was smiling and shaking his head.

As a philosophy major, the kicker was often engaging his mentor in conversations that had little to do with sports, and the coach ribbed him about his high mindedness – sometimes with a touch of exasperation. Faber usually countered by pulling an old chestnut from his bag of coachspeak.

This time, Quatro used the off-the-wall banter during the timeout to keep from overthinking his career-defining field goal.

“Helluva boot, Merrill!” said Faber, who nudged his way into the pile of humanity to give the kicker a hug and pat on the helmet. “So, tell me, smartass … which of my words of wisdom did you think about when you made that kick? Was it the one about tough times don’t last but tough people do, or maybe how sports doesn’t build character, it reveals it?”

“Actually coach, this was one time I wasn’t thinking about any of your clichés.”

Quatro held up both hands and rubbed his fingers together.

“I just remember you telling me an NFL kicker makes more than $2 million a year.”