Nine Views of Transco Tower, by Iak/Sohu

By Raymund Eich

An alien artist's works.

A once-great city.

The freedom of humankind.

Decades ago, the Ramuhlruus ended the quarantine of Earth and inducted humankind into the galactic community. They offered peace, prosperity, virtual reality, and immortality to all humans... wealth and privilege to a select few...

In exchange for a billion years of stagnation.

Now, a son of privilege returns to Earth. His position as a secret agent for the Ramuhlruus gives him the perfect cover to conspire against them. A set of famous images by alien artist Iak/Sohu give him locations around a once-great city to meet his contact.

Can he find his contact, and give hope to the few human beings who still seek adventure among the stars? Or will the Ramuhlruus and their other agents uncover his secret agenda and erase his mind?

• Language: English
• Publisher: CV-2 Books
• Release date: Nov 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466050389

Raymund Eich

Raymund Eich files patent applications, earned a Ph.D., won a national quiz bowl championship, writes science fiction and fantasy, and affirms Robert Heinlein's dictum that specialization is for insects.In a typical day, he may talk with university biology and science communication faculty, silicon chip designers, patent attorneys, epileptologists, and rocket scientists. Hundreds of papers cite his graduate research on the reactions of nitric oxide with heme proteins.He lives in Houston with his wife, son, and daughter.

Book preview

Nine Views of Transco Tower, by Iak/Sohu

NINE VIEWS OF TRANSCO TOWER, BY IAK/SOHU

A SCIENCE FICTION SHORT STORY

RAYMUND EICH

CV-2 Books

NINE VIEWS OF TRANSCO TOWER, BY IAK/SOHU

1. Transco Tower on a misty night

I stand in the moon-shadow of an apartment building. The disintegrator pistol squirms in my pocket, in search of more thigh from which to draw body heat. An unlikely place to meet my contact, but the voice in my head drove me here, and I know it did not lie.

When the first file opened, I knew the image that inserted itself into my senses before Zhaduzogol’s recorded voice identified it. I had experienced Iak/Sohu’s images in my childhood, when I did not know the Houston–the Earth–it had made subject of its art had vanished. This image had been taken from a minimall at night. A young black man sat on a bench, an arm around his girlfriend, a gold watch loose on his wrist. The woman licked strawberry ice cream from a waffle cone. Their gazes followed the thick green tail of a M’naloozh exiting the field of view. Cars hissed on wet pavement in the parking lot. To the north, over a spur of freeway, a puff of fog glowed, lit by the beacon atop Transco Tower.

Only the skyscraper and its beacon remain. A tight white cone sweeps through the light-bleached sky. The stretch of freeway has crumbled; its pillars stand like a grove of denuded birch. No youths have marred them with graffiti. Damn the Ramuhlruus. One day we will free the galaxy from their hegemony. Fifty-four minutes remain on my vigil.