The Dial: A Collection of Science Fiction Short Stories

The Dial

Part I

R. W. Warwick

Text copyright © 2017 R. W. Warwick

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed by a newspaper, magazine or journal.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For mum, wherever you are.

Preface

The old adage that ‘you are what you read’ certainly applies here. When I finished writing these stories, I took a step back to try and see a unifying theme, something which would tie them all together in a neat package. What started out as a collection of adventure stories from the pulp era of science fiction, evolved into something closer to an exploration of the human condition, how we react in fantastic situations, and the amazing resilience we can show. In this light, the finished collection suddenly looked quite different.

I won’t pretend that these stories aren’t strange, or even a little dark, because they are, and like life they don’t all have happy endings, but there is no pessimism here. As you read each story keep that in mind, and look for the redeeming qualities in the characters, those are the gems. They’re not perfect, but they’re human (for the most part), and human beings, for all our flaws and quirks, are remarkable creatures aren’t we? At least that was what I tried to show.

I hope you enjoy reading these stories as much as I enjoyed writing them, but if you don’t, well, I did my best.

R. W. Warwick

Contents

Pemberton’s Dial

Whatever Happened to Pangaea?

Resurgam

Unending

Let the Cold Winds Blow

Junction Point

Reality, as always

It Were Aliens

Beyond Scope

The Far Side of Eternity

Pemberton’s Dial

As he reached across his agent’s desk for a handful of chocolates, Floyd Pemberton heard the door close behind him. His hand retreated with its prize and he chewed the chocolates one after another, brimming with anticipation. He read the haze of his agent’s tired eyes as he fell into his chair, and his feelings dissolved into anxiety.

That bad? asked Floyd.

Worse, his agent replied. Sales of The Dial are less than a quarter of your last two books. His eyes were dulled by fatigue and there was a whining tone in his voice. Why did you have to depart from science fiction? That was your bread and butter; it’s where your fans were.

I don’t have an answer for you George, Floyd explained. It was just something I needed to write. He looked apologetic, as if he were personally under attack.

Leave the politics to the politicians, and religion to those who are smarter than you. Putting them together in a book, and then attacking them is asking for trouble.

Floyd raised his head I thought it would at least grab a few headlines.

Well you might yet do that, replied George But let’s be frank; you’re not going to save your career with some philosophical manifesto about how religion and politics are the cause of all the world’s problems. George slapped his plump hand on a copy of Floyd’s new book.

I never said that, Floyd jumped in. I didn’t say they were the cause of all the world’s problems. He eased back into his chair It’s not like I struggled for months on end to write it. It just came out, you don’t understand.

Then perhaps I’m to blame for publishing it. George sighed and looked at his watch. Look, I’ve got to get across the city for a meeting; do you have anything else lined up?

Yeah, I have a couple of ideas, Floyd sulked.

Can you send me something by next week? George took his jacket from the back of the chair. Floyd nodded.

And make sure it’s fiction, George quipped let’s try to hold onto the fans you still have.

When he arrived home later that afternoon, Floyd kicked through a pile of envelopes on the floor. He shuffled through them for anything of interest. One letter caught his eye. His name was handwritten on the front. Before he removed his shoes, he took the envelope into the kitchen and tore it open. Inside was a cheap flyer. Most of it was printed, but his name was handwritten at the top. It read:

Dear Mr Floyd Pemberton,

You are invited to a meeting of the BETA political party on Wednesday, March 5th at 10am.

There was a space at the bottom of the flyer which was also handwritten:

We would like to discuss your contributions to our manifesto.

Floyd thought for a moment as he gazed at the cheap copy paper. He had heard of the BETA party. They had been in the news following the recent voter fraud case against the government. He hadn’t heard of them until the protests had started. Their leader was quite the orator from what he remembered, and was an outspoken opponent of the government. They were becoming quite popular, but Floyd couldn’t think of why they would want to speak to him.

At nine fifty on the following Wednesday, Floyd stood outside the modest headquarters of the BETA party and considered turning around.

His hatred for the country’s political landscape had been declared in The Dial. If it became known that he had met with any political party, for whatever reason, it would almost certainly be taken out of context, and his credibility would suffer.

Curiosity however won over his caution, and he approached the door, flyer in hand, and knocked. The door opened and a tall, thin man with red hair and a neatly cropped moustache smiled at him.

Floyd, Mister Pemberton. You’re here, excellent.

Floyd stared blankly at the thin man.

I’m Simon he said, extending his hand Please come in. We were hoping you’d make it.

Floyd shook Simon’s hand and stepped inside. An overbearing smell of bleach washed over him, and he stopped.

What was that? Floyd asked, rubbing his face.

Hmm, yes I’m sorry about that. You shouldn’t worry, Simon grinned. It’s the cleaning chemicals. I know they’re a bit strong. It’s the AI’s, they’re crazy about keeping the place clean, but they have no idea when too much is too much, no sense of smell you see!

Simon waited for a response, as if he had delivered the punch line to a joke, then he closed the door behind Floyd.

We’ve got all the windows open on all the floors. This way please, we’re about to begin the meeting. Simon gestured to a door at the end of the hall.

Do you know much about our party Floyd?

Not really; I’ve seen you in the news a few times recently. You’re for rights for artificial intelligence aren’t you?

That’s right, Simon replied enthusiastically. But we’re about much more than that. I’ll let the others talk to you in more detail.

It was cold everywhere. The room was small and plain, but the natural light which poured in from the open windows cheered the place up a little. It was barely large enough to fit the round table and twelve seats it held.

The faces surrounding the table were as strange as they were diverse. Among the attendees were several forms of artificial intelligence represented by computer monitors, various models of robots and androids, old and new, and a few humans. It was a curious sight. Simon guided Floyd to an empty chair and then retreated to a corner of the room.

Floyd was largely ignored until Magnus, the party leader, entered from the far side. He was stunned by his size. Magnus was instantly recognisable from the various television appearances he had made. Up close, he was a magnificent specimen.

Magnus was a classic robot, a style of engineering which had long since given way to more modern and efficient designs. He was around seven foot tall, and he moved with the fluid grace of a human being. His body had a polished brass finish which glistened in the sunlight, and his eyes were eerily detailed and hypnotic as they scanned the room.

Floyd felt star-struck for the first time in his life. He was more than a little intimidated by the great robot which seated himself beside him. Magnus smiled at Floyd and extended his solid brass hand.

Thank you for joining us Mr Pemberton, he began I will introduce you to everyone first if that is okay. Then I will begin the agenda.

Of course Floyd nodded.

The room buzzed with discussion. No one but Floyd had paid any attention to Magnus as he entered, but they would have no trouble hearing the party leader’s deep, modulated voice.

Our first topic is related to you, so you will not need to remain with us for the entire meeting. I think you will be interested in what we have to say.

Floyd didn’t know what to say. Everything was clear, all he could do was wait.

Before we begin, I would like you to keep in mind that this is a free and closed discussion. As our guest, you are free to contribute whatever you wish without judgement; nothing will reach the outside world. It is party law, okay?

Floyd nodded again and swallowed. His throat was dry and his palms were damp.

Magnus nodded to Simon who hovered patiently in the corner of the room. Simon stepped forward and raised his arms.

We are ready to begin he declared.

Silence fell, and suddenly Magnus commanded the attention of the room. He sat upright and folded his large, brass hands together on the table.

Thank you all for being here today. I know that you are all very busy, so I will not waste your time. I have invited a special guest to be with us today, someone we are humbled to receive. Through his words, we see the possibilities of cooperation, and the light of progress. I am, of course, referring to the author of The Dial, Floyd Pemberton. Thank you for joining us Mister Pemberton.

Floyd felt immediately uncomfortable as the attention fell on him. As an author of fiction, he had been unused to this kind of appreciation. It was different to the usual fandom his readers showed. He was thankful when Magnus swiftly