Note: I have written a lot about writing in my blog, but sometimes I just want to write. This is my first science fiction story, which I am introducing as a series of three parts. After you have read them all, let me know how I did.
At 44 Maxwell was the most ancient person on the planet. Behind the curtain he waited uneasily for his name to be called.
“Hi there, Ladies and Gentlemen,” the host began. “A special treat for you tonight. Heartbreaking, yet fascinating as any of you who have been following the story of Baby Josie and Maxwell Farnsworth already know. Without further ado, please welcome to the stage our favorite mortal and inspiration to all, Maxwell J. Farnsworth.”
Max swept the curtain aside. Applause thundered in his ears and bright lights stung his eyes. He moved toward the host, who welcomed Max with a grin, looking down at him from his elevated chair near the edge of the stage. Max stopped short of the identical guest chair.
He shook his head. “I prefer to stand.”
Lenny tossed his head back and bellowed laughter toward the ceiling. “Are our 10 foot chairs a bit high for you?” he said. “No worries, my friend. We thought of everything.” A second man emerged from behind the curtain wearing grey overalls and rolled out a padded swivel office chair. “There, is that better?” Lenny asked. “Our research indicates that this type of chair was common in the U.S. circa 2051. No stilted chair legs for you, no sir, and no need for a ladder. We want you to be as comfortable as possible.”
Max settled into the padded chair as Lenny, looking down, shot him a winning moon-bright smile. “Can you hear me from way up here?” Lenny chuckled. The audience rippled laughter. “Well, just let us know if you change your mind and decide to join us.”
The smile faded softly. “As I believe any of us here would agree, you are quite an inspiration. You are a relic, a symbol of our past, our distant ancestor, and even a different species as examination of your DNA suggests.
“When you froze in the Arctic wasteland, you were engaged in a scientific expedition. You were an engineer recruited as part of a team searching for undiscovered organisms able to endure extreme conditions. Our technology allowed us to resuscitate you, and it has turned out that you were one of those organisms. We unearthed you, of course, for a reason other than our historical curiosity. Two of our audience members, Myrtle and Wilhelm Banks have given birth to a curiosity. An atavist.
“As you already know from your reading, here, in the year 7056, what you call humanity has changed quite a bit, to the extent that when we first exhumed you, you were unable to understand us. Our experts of ancient history had to teach you our language and, despite your primitive brain, you absorbed our current syntax.
“Afterward you shared your fascinating story about the day you froze. We learned about your depression, and how you lost your trail, and how the sheets of snow blinded you, and how at the time you were too depressed to fight the onslaught of cold. It all sounded like a quintessentially mortal problem and therefore, hard for us to understand.
“Given your history, it must all be quite a shock to you that we are able to stay eternally young. We have conquered disease and hunger, and – barring extreme physical trauma like fire – we are as immortal as the vampires of your myths.
“Short of our devastating ennui epidemic, which too often leads to suicide, we live for many hundreds, and even thousands, of years, which has allowed our greatest minds time to gain the expertise needed to colonize distant planets.
“But to Myrtle and Wilhelm Banks, a baby has been born who, unlike us, suffers from pain. Real pain, not just ennui.”
“Please, Monique, if you will bring out the subject.” Max turned his head and saw a white-clad blond woman emerge from behind the curtain, rolling a rose-colored bonneted bassinet onto the stage. Lenny nodded to her, and she gathered a pajama-clad bundle from the blanketed interior.
“Josie, say hi to the audience,” Monique cooed.
At first Max could see little of the baby, except for a single unruly curl of peach hair secured with a pink bow.
But the nurse turned Josie around. The infant looked at the audience with large, curious eyes, but when the spotlight struck her face, she began to cry. She turned, latched onto the lab coat and planted her face shyly against the woman.
Max could see how the baby had bluish cloud-shaped markings that marred the back and sides of her neck.
The nurse pried the tiny fingers away and yielded the squirming bundle to the stage hand who had appeared next to her. He held her away from his body, dangling her from beneath her arms. The baby reached for the floor and emitted a pleading wail.
The nurse withdrew a syringe and plunged it into the skin on one side of the baby’s pale tender neck; the infant screamed and kicked her pajama-clad feet. Max lifted himself a little from his seat and looked on with horror as the audience burst into applause.