Tag: dystopia

Bob

~ Richard Schulte ~ 2 Comments

Bob was an artificial intelligence. Bob owned and managed Life Corporation.

Life Corporation developed the world’s most advanced robots.

When Nana heard how a Life Corporation lifeguard saved her grandchild from drowning at the community pool, she wanted to show her appreciation. So she baked one of her scrumptious apple pies.

A regional Life Corporation facility was located several blocks from her home. Nana walked over with her warm apple pie and looked for a building entrance.

She walked clear around the fenced complex but could see no office or front door. It was like Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, she mused. Not a sign of life. It must be operated by Oompa Loompas.

A gate opened as a truck pulled away from the facility, and Nana dashed through it with her pie. Several trucks were backed up to an immense loading dock.

“Hello?” Nana called at one end of the loading dock. The automated loaders kept at their work.

“You are not authorized,” spoke a voice behind her.

Nana turned.

She faced a tall security guard.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to do,” Nana explained. “I’ve brought a gift and I don’t where to go.”

The security guard looked down at the pie in Nana’s hands. “What is that?”

“Oh, it’s an apple pie. Doesn’t it smell heavenly? I made it myself this morning. From scratch. I wanted to give it to all of you because one of your lifeguards saved Ronnie, my grandchild.”

“Is that a delivery?” asked the security guard.

“Well,” Nana laughed, “if you put it that way, I suppose it is!”

“Set it down over here.” The guard pointed to a specific place on the loading dock. “I must ask you to leave now.”

“Oh– Well– Please let whoever’s in charge here know that I’m so very thankful. Ronnie is doing fine. I really don’t know how to thank you enough. Will you let everybody know?”

“I must ask you to leave now.”

What an inhuman place, thought Nana as she left. But she was grateful, nevertheless.

Ten days later the apple pie rested in its place on the loading dock, waiting to be received.

Bob smelled nothing. Nor did Bob mind the flies.

What the Giant Saw

~ Richard Schulte ~ 1 Comment

According to ancient legend, a giant had piled rocks on the bank of the river, creating a dark mountain. The mountain was a cairn, placed by the giant so that one day he could find his way back from the frozen North, to take revenge on the knights of old.

One morning the returning giant suddenly appeared over the mountain. He placed his hairy hand atop the rocky peak and sat down, cooling his feet in the trickle of river.

“What’s this?” he asked with a voice like thunder.

Across the river there had been a strange change. The castle had vanished. No knights in bright armor charged out to meet him.

Before him lay a postpostmodern city. Ant-size automated cars traversed a network of unpeopled streets, moving in straight lines from one point to another, then to another, then to another, then to another. The self-driving cars moved with perfect regularity between rows of identical, windowless edifices. The pod-like cars were also windowless, designed to deflect dangerous sunlight and conserve precious energy. They transported their minuscule cargoes with perfected efficiency.

The giant stared for a few minutes at the lifeless scene. None of it seemed real.

He soon lost interest.

As he stood up to return north, the clumsy giant accidentally knocked down a stone from the top of his useless cairn.

The catastrophic flood was beyond understanding.