Microstory 2471: Hubdome

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It may be boring, but someone’s gotta do it. Centuries ago, mail was all the rage. You could send someone a letter a thousand kilometers away, and it might only take a month to get there, or never! Doesn’t that sound neat? Over time, of course, speed picked up as infrastructure was developed, and efficient methods were discovered—or rediscovered, as in the case of relay stations. In the late 20th century, they invented electronic mail, which may lead you to believe that regular physical post was all but eradicated, but not so fast my friend. Adoption was slow, and...people are dumb. They still sent letters. Plus, the population was booming, so even if any given individual wasn’t sending as much, the volume was still increasing overall. It did eventually die down, but one thing that didn’t go away was package delivery. Instead of just the written word, real, useful items had to be transported from one place to another. There was no way to send that electronically. Or was there? Of course there is! It’s called additive manufacturing, and it’s been improving too. Not everyone has their own industrial synthesizer, and there are some things that standard feedstocks can’t handle. If there are too many different types of materials in one item, you can’t expect every end user to maintain each type in their private space. And even if you did, the feedstock itself has to be delivered, right? That’s where this dome comes in. It’s a hub for all your shipping and delivering needs. It doesn’t take weeks to get to its destination, though, unless whatever you asked for hasn’t been built yet. I say, if something you ordered takes more than a few hours to reach you, there’s probably something wrong. Shipping was one of the easiest industries to transition to automation back when human employment was something necessary in order to maintain a stable economy. You pick this thing up, put it in this box, seal it up, and move it to its destination. The programming couldn’t be simpler. Only one human works here. He walks up and down, making sure that things are okay. Obviously, the robots do this too, but they like to put  a human touch in everything, and that’s true of pretty much every planet, except maybe Glisnia. Come here for a tour if you have a few hours to kill, but you could also probably just read the more detailed literature on the prospectus, and get just as much out of it.

Microstory 2295: Stress Out of the Process

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What I’ve learned is that the publicity firm that Nick was using to protect his life story from rumors and lies is no stranger to memorial services. A few of their clients have died while they were working with them, and their survivors can purchase a new package to help with arrangements. Some clients even purchase it ahead of time in anticipation, like one would reserve a burial spot in a cemetery because they know they’re gonna die eventually. Nick didn’t do that, because he didn’t even think to hire anyone when his health started to decline from the prion infection. Well, I think he did consider it way back then, but he didn’t have the money, and didn’t follow through until later. Anyway, I purchased the memorial package, so they’re handling everything. I’ll be signing off on all decisions, but I won’t have to think them up myself, which takes a lot of the stress out of the process, so I’m grateful for their help in this matter. Or perhaps they should be thanking me for my help, if they’re the ones taking point. I did secure a reservation for the Causeway Center in Chicago, though. It’s so last minute that someone already had the auditorium booked. Homes for Humankind and CauseTogether.hope have assured me that whoever it was was happy to push it back to another day, but it’s hard for me to imagine how that’s possible. That room can accommodate hundreds of people, which means that they have to contact hundreds of people to alert them to the change in dates. I suppose that’s not necessarily true. Maybe they booked the whole place for an audience of eleven. I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure out who it was, and if they’re really okay, but I can’t seem to find any information. You would think that an event like that would be advertising somewhere so customers could sign up for their thing instead. If you know what was supposed to be happening in the auditorium next Friday, shoot me a message. I feel that I owe them a thank you. In the meantime, I’m flying up to look at the venue this weekend, but I’ve already seen photos, and it looks great.

Microstory 1578: Nameless

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Prompt

I found a package on my porch. It was addressed to me, but had the wrong address. I don’t know how it got here, but I shrugged, and opened it up. Inside was...

Botner

...a huge bag of Reese’s Pieces (I don't even like Reese's Pieces) and...a shirt, and pants, and...a cardboard license plate? Who did this? Hey there! Yes, I know, that license plate looks pretty strange, but I thought it might help you identify yourself if you ever get pulled over. Here are the parts of it. There’s a 4x4 strip that says “Pickles Drive”. There’s a piece that says “Raging Bull” and another that says “Scotty Doesn’t Drive”. There’s a plate holder. It’s hard to make out the rest because the back part’s missing. I’m very disappointed to find out that it’s not just some kind of joke. I’m so excited! Did someone send me a gift? Can I open it now? Can I say thank you? Can I wear it? I think I’m going to cry. From: The [Nameless]. To: [Me]. From: [The Nameless]. Date: 12/16/13. Subject: Greetings and salutations and other nothings. To: [Me]. I really appreciate it! I haven’t tried the Reese’s Pieces yet, but my brother really likes them, and it would be a shame if I didn’t...

Conclusion

...at least eat a little bit of it. Someone went through all this trouble to make this care package for me, and it would be rude for me to completely ignore it. The fake license plate intrigues me. I feel compelled to use it, even though I obviously already have a state-issued plate on my car, and this would be extremely illegal. I remove that one, and affix the fake one in its place, just for fun, I guess. To my surprise, the cardboard transforms into metal, and looks totally authentic. You would never know that this isn’t the real thing. I now feel the urge to get in my car, and drive as fast as I can. I’ve never been much of a daredevil, and I don’t break the law. This is so not me, but I can’t stop myself. I stick to normal speeds while I’m in the neighborhood, and don’t go too terribly fast in the city, but once I’m out, all bets are off. I’m going ninety on a sixty-five, and pissing everyone off as I weave in and out of traffic. I pass a speed trap that we all know is there, because it’s not a very good hiding place. The cop pulls out of their little spot, and switches on the sirens. They match my speed until they’re right behind me, and then they do something strange. They turn off the siren, and pull back over. Since we’re in flat Kansas, I can see them in my rearview mirror for quite awhile, even at these high speeds. They’re just sitting on the shoulder as if this were a video game that’s not programmed well enough for the NPCs to notice the player once they pass a certain point. I turn around, and start heading back towards them. I don’t mean I get onto the other side of the highway. I’m driving the wrong direction on the shoulder. It’s dangerous as hell, but as I was saying, I don’t care anymore. I can’t. This Nameless person isn’t letting me. I keep going until I’m face to face with the cop. He just smiles at me through the windshield, and gives a salute. What the hell is going? Curious and bold, I step out, and approach from the passenger side. “Mornin’ officer,” I say.

“Mornin’, sir,” he replies in between bites of his own giant bag of Reese’s Pieces. “Almost got up to ninety-five today! Still can’t make a hundred, I see! Ah, I’m just playin’. Anything I can help you with?”

Again. What the hell? Where does this license place get its power?

Microstory 1329: Local Drone Service

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High School Dropout: Thank you for taking the time to talk to me. I know you’re really busy, even in your retirement, so I’ll try not to keep you.

Rich Neighbor: No problem. I hear you need some money? I have plenty left over, so we can do a loan, or a gift. I’m good either way. I don’t have any kids, and I can’t take it with me when I die.

High School Dropout: Oh no, I’m not looking for any handouts, or a loan per se. I’m looking for an investor.

Rich Neighbor: You have some kind of business idea then?

High School Dropout: Yes.

Rich Neighbor: ...Okay, go ahead.

High School Dropout: Okay, sorry, yeah. So, I recently bought a hobby drone. This thing was pretty big, but it didn’t have very high carrying capacity. My friend and I were each at our respective houses, stuck inside because of this virus thing, and he was bored out of his mind. I had a box set of DVDs for a show he wanted to watch, but neither of our parents would let us go outside to exchange them. He’s still in high school, and I dropped out, so I still have to live with my parents.

Rich Neighbor: Real quick bit of advice, if you ever pitch this to anyone else, don’t mention that you’re a high school dropout. Unless it’s relevant...it ain’t relevant.

High School Dropout: Do you think that was why the bank rejected my loan?

Rich Neighbor: Probably not. Go on.

High School Dropout: So I had this idea to fly my drone all the way to his house, but I had to break them up, because the drone couldn’t carry it all at once. While he was binging the first group, I started taking a look at my drone. I realized, while I’m no expert, there were some modifications I could make to the thing to increase its strength and integrity. I could actually make a better drone out of a cheaper one. Then I thought, what if I made that a business?

Rich Neighbor: You want to set up a shop that enhances people’s drones? I would need to see the numbers to determine whether it makes sense for your customers to pay you for that service, instead of just buying a stronger drone in the first place.

High School Dropout: No, that’s not what I’m talking about. That was just to illustrate how I could lower my overhead to get this business off the ground...so to speak. What I’m talking about is a courier service. This virus got me thinking. Everyone had to suddenly start working from home, and a lot of people realized that wasn’t too hard. As long as they had a few office supplies, and a network connection, that was good enough for most of the work they needed to do. But they couldn’t do everything. Even if they happen to own their own printer, it’s usually small, and can’t handle a big job. What if I developed a courier service designed specifically for local work-from-home companies. We would actually encourage these businesses to drastically shrink their on-site staff, only accommodate a few essential personnel, and save buttloads of money. Everyone has already figured out how to do the virtual side of remote work, but for companies that need all this printing done, and stuff, they usually just give up on the entire idea, and maintain their vast office spaces. If we can show them people can work from home, and still receive necessary physical objects, up to a weight limit, maybe the country can become a better place. Hell, the office could still get regular packages and mail, for security reasons, and our drones could redistribute all of that too.

Rich Neighbor: Wow. I have to tell ya kid, this sounds pretty ambitious. I would expect a supply or courier service to get into this sector, but to start from scratch? I’m not sure how it could be done.

High School Dropout: I can do it...with your help. Like I said, this isn’t a loan, it’s an investment. It’s a stake. I want you involved, because of your years of business experience.

Rich Neighbor: Well, this is indeed a budding market. Everyone I talk to says drones are going to be big in the future. If you can find a niche early on, you can take over the whole city before anyone sees you coming. You would have to do it right, though, and I think you came to the right place. Tell me more.

Microstory 450: Floor 36 (Part 2)

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Corporate Affairs Director: Hello, thank you for coming. I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, though. My superior told me that I needed to speak with a consultant, but I’m not sure what exactly it is you do. Are you a futurist as well?

Personnel Consultant: Well, Mister Director, in a way, I am. I’m here to talk about your future.

Director: Okay, is that good or bad?

Consultant: Well, Director, you can look at it as a bad thing, or you can—

Director: See the glass as half full?

Consultant: Actually, I don’t like that analogy. You can always pour more of what you want in the glass, but in real life, sometimes you’re just out of options.

Director: What are my options now? Or rather, what’s my only option?

Consultant: For you, only the sky is the limit. You can do anything you want, except for one thing.

Director: That one thing is working here.

Consultant: That’s right. You no longer have a position at Analion.

Director: Why?

Consultant: I’m gonna be straight with you, because honestly, I’ve looked over your file, and you’re very...what might you call it? In touch. The company is in crisis. People are worried about losing their jobs, but what they don’t realize is that the process has already begun. I have a huge responsibility ahead of me. The company is about to make major changes to its workforce. And, since we’ve already established how intelligent you are, I feel I can safely inform you that being let go may be the best thing to happen to you. You’re going to receive a generous severance package; one better than what most people are getting. Furthermore, the deadly window scandal is only the beginning of these people’s problems. It’s only going to get worse, so you’re lucky that they’re pushing you out first. This is your opportunity to escape now and avoid being too intensely associated with this organization.

Director: Wow, you make it sound you’re doing me a favor.

Consultant: I won’t lie to you, it’s not ideal. They chose to cut you out because they have no clue what you do. As a personnel consultant, it’s my job to understand other people’s jobs. I know exactly what you do, and I know exactly how important it is. And I also know how tough it’s going to be convincing a new employer of how valuable you are. I’m not here to say everything’s going to be okay, just that it won’t all be terrible. A guy like you can get through something like this.

Director: ...tell me more about this severance package, and whether it’s set in stone.

Consultant: Very good.

Microstory 71: The Address

There has been a dip in applications to work at the postal service after a package bomb killed everyone in three houses. The supervisor tells me that I’m hired, but she looks more grateful for me than I for them. It’s the first day on my route, and I’m so excited that I forget my headphones. They tell me that it can get really boring, so pretty much everyone has music. But that’s okay with me. When I was a child, I would write short notes to my family and deliver them on a wooden horse. Call me crazy, but I’ve always wanted to work at the post office. As I’m about to head out, one of my new coworkers asks me if I’m doing the Purple Rose route. When I confirm, he chortles a bit and says ominously, “just go through the gate.” Things are going well, until I find a letter with an address that doesn’t make any sense. The houses on Purple Rose Lane start at 4200, then on to 4204 and 4208, but then the next house is 4400. The address I’m looking for is 4256. I cannot mess up on my very first day, so I pull out the map, but it’s completely unhelpful. I seem to be on the right street, on the right part of town, so where is it? Then I see it. A gate. Between two houses. Exactly where the discrepancy lies. I laugh, because my coworkers are clearly hazing the new guy. Which is awesome since it means they already accept me. When I walk up and open the gate, I find myself in a pocket dimension. There is an entire slew of houses that are invisible from the main street, waiting for their mail. That makes more sense. I just hope that I can easily get back out when I’m done. The last time I was in a pocket dimension, I had to solve a riddle before they let me leave.

Microstory 64: The Package

My parents are on vacation in Hawaii, so I’ve been going to their house every few days to grab the mail and water some plants. When I get there today, I see a package. The label has their address, but it lists two names that I do not recognize. I send a text message to my mother, and she tells me that one of the people listed lives to the West of them, while the other lives to the East. She must be busy, because I don’t get a response when I ask which house I should take it to. It seems strange to me that two people who live in separate houses would both receive a single package. Perhaps the sender realized this and decided to split the difference by sending it to the house in between them. I flip a proverbial coin and walk over to place the package at the West house. When I get back to my parents’ I see the package has returned. And it must be the same package. I don’t have an eidetic memory, or anything, but the creases on the cardboard and the marks on the corners are the same as I remember them. If it’s just a duplicate, it’s a very good one. I take it back over to the West house, but the same thing happens again. I decide that the package magically knows where it’s supposed to be, and will default to the beginning until it’s put in the right place, so I take it over to the East house. Yet again, I find that it has defaulted to my parents’ porch. Before I can think of a third option, I hear ticking. On instinct, I run towards the street, but it isn’t far enough. The package explodes and sends me colliding into my car. When I wake up hours later at the hospital, the police inform me that the explosion stretched across all three houses, killing all those inside.