DarkFire Continuum: Science Fiction Stories of the Apocalypse

By E W Farnsworth

Since the appearance of E. W. Farnsworth’s 'DarkFire at the Edge of Time' in early 2016, the importance of Artificial Intelligence (AI) has increased exponentially.
From AI to robotics, 2016 was long prophesied as the year when the machines would start “taking over". Now it is happening, according to Vivek Wadhwa of Crunch Network. Yet AIs and robots have come as our friends and helpmeets to improve our lives. They will become, as Lincoln wrote, the “better angels of our nature.”
From the 'Sarah Tetralogy' through the journey of Spaceship Arcturus conveying brilliant humans, artificial intelligences and avatars beyond the end of the universe, to ‘Renaissance’, which recounts the spaceship’s successful return to instantiate a new Eden which replaces the black crisp that humans have made of Earth, these stories continue in the vein of DarkFire and his friend, the inimitable Loc Phuket.
Science Fiction to some, perhaps, yet, day by day, increasingly part of our current events

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9780244366711

E W Farnsworth

E. W. Farnsworth lives and writes in Arizona. Over two hundred fifty of his short stories were published at a variety of venues from London to Hong Kong in the period 2014 through 2018. Published in 2015 were his collected Arizona westerns Desert Sun, Red Blood, his thriller about cryptocurrency crimes Bitcoin Fandango, his John Fulghum Mysteries, Volume I, and Engaging Rachel, an Anderson romance/thriller, the latter two by Zimbell House Publishing. Published by Zimbell House in 2016 and 2017 were Farnsworth’s Pirate Tales, John Fulghum Mysteries, Volumes II, III, IV and V, Baro Xaimos: A Novel of the Gypsy Holocaust, The Black Marble Griffon and Other Disturbing Tales, Among Waterfowl and Other Entertainments and Fantasy, Myth and Fairy Tales. Published by Audio Arcadia in 2016 were DarkFire at the Edge of Time, Farnsworth’s collection of visionary science fiction stories, Nightworld, A Novel of Virtual Reality, and two collections of stories, The Black Arts and Black Secrets. Also published by Audio Arcadia in 2017 were Odd Angles on the 1950s, The Otio in Negotio: The Comical Accidence of Business and DarkFire Continuum: Science Fiction Stories of the Apocalypse. In 2018 Audio Arcadia released A Selection of Stories by E. W. Farnsworth. Farnsworth’s Dead Cat Bounce, an Inspector Allhoff novel, appeared in 2016 from Pro Se Productions, which will also publish his Desert Sun, Red Blood, Volume II, The Secret Adventures of Agents Salamander and Crow and a series of three Al Katana superhero novels in 2017 and 2018. E. W. Farnsworth is now working on an epic poem, The Voyage of the Spaceship Arcturus, about the future of humankind when humans, avatars and artificial intelligence must work together to instantiate a second Eden after the Chaos Wars bring an end to life on Earth. For updates, please see www.ewfarnsworth.com.

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DarkFire Continuum: Science Fiction Stories of the Apocalypse

DarkFire Continuum

Science Fiction Stories

of the Apocalypse

E. W. Farnsworth

Copyright © E.W. Farnsworth 2018

All rights reserved

DarkFire Continuum

Science Fiction Stories

of the Apocalypse

E. W. Farnsworth

ISBN 978-0-244-36671-1

Published by AudioArcadia.com 2018

Disclaimer:  The stories in this collection are

works of fiction.

Publisher’s Note: This book contains adult themes.

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction

in whole or in part in any form. No part of this publication

may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form

or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other

electronic or mechanical methods, without the written permission

of the publisher. Publisher can be contacted via email at [e-mail]

Dedication

Inyaman

Acknowledgements

‘Space Side Kick’ was first published in the anthology Detectives of the Fantastic, Volume III, of Horrified Press, United Kingdom, in May, 2016

‘Galactic Breakout’ was first published in the anthology Detectives of the Fantastic, Volume IV, of Horrified Press, United Kingdom, in June, 2016

‘The Hybrid’ and ‘Life Finder’ were first published in the anthology Sword and Planet, Rogue Planet Press of Horrified Press, United Kingdom, in March 2017.

‘Renaissance’ was first published in The Tightfisted Scot Advisory Newsletter, Green Man Arizona Press, December, 2016. Permission to publish in this volume was granted by Wilson F. Engel, III, Editor-in-Chief and General Manager, TFS.

‘Mobile Dusters’ was first published in Psychopomps Shepherds of the Dead Anthology, Edited by Cindy Grigg, Misch Masch Publishing, 2015. Permission to publish in this volume was granted by Cindy Grigg on March 6, 2015.

‘Inyaman’ first appeared in Wilson F. Engel, III’s The Virtue of Baseball: Reflections on Growing up in Southern California, San Diego, California: Green Man Press 2001. Permission to use the name and intellectual content of ‘Inyaman’ was graciously granted on April 25, 2017, by Wilson F. Engel, III, Ph.D.

Foreword

Since the appearance of my DarkFire at the Edge of Time in early 2016, the importance of Artificial Intelligence (AI) in the imaginations of global citizens has increased exponentially, and not only in literature, films and art. The frantic quest to become the national leader in development of AI and robotics has been figured separately by Stephen Hawking and the World Policy Institute as the brink of a new Artificial Intelligence ‘arms race’, whose winner will achieve global hegemony.

At the same time, the term ‘post-truth’ has become a neologism of note for the year 2016 according to the Oxford Dictionaries. Those who write post-apocalyptic stories have been advised to reclassify their work to the category ‘Current Events’. The black comedy film Brazil (1985) has taken on new life as the artistic community tries to come to grips with the resurgence of ‘paleo republicans’ in the United States and with the advent of a new, global revanchist movement. Many among us would like to turn back the global clock, some by centuries.

Yet the inexorable tide of high technology flows forward. Artificial Intelligence can now translate back and forth among languages it was never trained to do. It can read lips as well as humans. It can dominate chess tournaments. AI is slowly taking on a life (or lives) of its (or their) own. Academics who formerly feared AI are now foretelling the extinction of humans as a species within the next thousand years. Oxford’s Nick Bostrom has asked the question, Is artificial intelligence really an existential threat to humanity? Keep in mind that Oxford, Alphabet and Deep Mind are just getting started with their Artificial Intelligence developments.

Robotics, as many foresaw, is running on a parallel track to AI. For example, SuitX’s Phoenix exoskeleton can be custom fit to any user’s body. The DARPA Robotics Challenge (DRC) looks towards funding a full-body humanoid control approach. If this seems far-fetched, Stanford University is a leading contender for this line of integrated, control development.

Medical experimentation follows an auspicious line of experimentation. Severing a person’s head and attaching it to another’s body is quickly becoming a reality with surgical experiments planned around the globe. Nearly every bodily organ is now available as a buyable component-hearts, kidneys, livers, lungs, pancreases, intestines and thymuses. Tissue transplants include bones, tendons, corneas, skin, heart valves, nerves and veins. It is only a matter of time before silicon as well as carbon transplants become general. Scientists promise to hack the code of life, extending the lifespan of humans indefinitely. Outer signs of aging, such as brittle, porous bones, silver hair and sagging skin, would no longer be problems since cells would be cultivated to restore the youthfulness and vigor of humans’ prime.

From AI to robotics, 2016 was long prophesied as the year when the machines would start taking over, and now it is happening, according to Vivek Wadhwa of Crunch Network. Yet AIs and robots have not come as the Terminator to destroy us, but as our friends and helpmates to improve our lives. They will become as Lincoln wrote, the better angels of our nature.

The advent of billionaires and their toys rounds out the picture since governments cannot rein in creativity any more than nature can halt developments which aim at survival of the fittest. From the Sarah Tetralogy through the journey of spaceship Arcturus conveying brilliant humans, artificial intelligences and avatars beyond the end of the universe, to ‘Renaissance’, which recounts the spaceship’s successful return to instantiate a new Eden that replaces the black crisp that humans have made of Earth, these stories continue in the vein of DarkFire and his friend, the inimitable Loc Phuket. Science fiction to some, perhaps, yet, day by day, increasingly part of our current events.

E. W. FARNSWORTH

THE SARAH TETRALOGY

Sad Sarah

The first time I saw Sarah Worthington was at the intermission of the world premiere of Arizona Lady in Phoenix. She was hard to miss at her willowy six foot three, dressed in her gossamer orange gown. Her black eyes were the saddest at that gala affair. She was waiting patiently as her elderly father maneuvered his electric wheelchair up the aisle.

I had no idea at that time about the size of the Worthington fortune or Sarah’s nasty divorce or the vulture relatives who had relocated to Greater Phoenix to pick the bones of the dead man whenever he might pass.

Her eyes met mine for only a few seconds, but her communication was, for me, clear as the ring of the Lutine Bell: ‘shipwreck with all hands lost’. Then she blinked, shook her head and looked away.

I saw her walk the distance to the exit, stately and aristocratic. Her hands moved like a dancer’s. Her black hair was fine and immaculately coiffed. I was aware of other men watching her, careful not to allow their dates to see their roving eyes.

As I was alone this evening, I followed the woman and her father to the restroom area to refresh myself. While she waited outside, I went into the men’s room behind Mr. Worthington and watched him negotiate his way into the handicapped toilet enclosure and shut the door. I had rinsed my hands and dried them before I heard a loud clattering and a groan. I saw Mr. Worthington’s hand on the floor working as if to grasp something in the air. I went to the door and called out, but he did not answer. Disregarding the others, I burst through the door. The man was alive and uninjured but incapable of getting off the ground. His wheelchair was lying on its side.

Do you require medical assistance? I asked.

He focused on my hovering face and said, Just help me into my wheelchair, thanks. I’ll be fine. Damned inconvenience, that’s all. Don’t tell my daughter I fell. I’ll never hear the end of it.

I righted the man’s wheelchair and helped him to his feet. He took charge as soon as he was settled. He flushed the john, nodded at me and passed through the wreckage of the broken door to the sinks where he washed his hands. He swiveled around and looked me squarely in the face.

Do you have a card? he asked.

I pulled out my wallet and fished out my business card. I handed it to him wondering why he had requested it. He read it carefully, then handed it back to me. He negotiated his way out the door to where his daughter stood. She seemed relieved to see him. As they proceeded into the theater, I put my card back in my wallet. I took my seat, which was two rows behind theirs.

I wondered about the father and daughter for a few minutes before becoming immersed in the action of the opera. When the last aria had been sung and the standing ovation had been shouted, an old friend came sidling up and shook my hand. We talked while the theater emptied. When I looked up, the Worthingtons had gone.

The next morning between meetings, my executive assistant, Lindsay, informed me I had received a telephone call from a Mr. Brent Worthington, who had asked that I call at my convenience. Since I had a few minutes until my telecom, I asked Lindsay to place the return call and patch it through to my office. When the call came, it was Sarah Worthington on the line, waiting until I answered before handing the phone to her father. Her voice sounded slightly hoarse and formal.

Mr. Albert Sanderson?

Yes.

Please stand by for Mr. Brent Worthington.

I heard her say, Father, Mr. Sanderson is on the line.

He answered, Mr. Albert Sanderson, thank you for taking my call. I won’t occupy much of your time. I wanted to invite you to lunch at my estate as a sign of my gratitude for your assistance last evening at the opera.

Mr. Worthington, there is no need. I was happy to help.

It’s good of you to say so, but I insist. Lunch is tomorrow from eleven thirty until two o’clock p.m. My daughter Sarah will be on again in a moment to give you the details. I look forward to our lunch. Good day. Mr. Worthington had been decisive and brooked no opposition.

When she came back on the line, Sarah informed me, The family chauffeuse will pick you up outside your office tomorrow morning at eleven and drive you to the Worthington Estate in North Scottsdale. She’ll drop you off at your office no later than two thirty. Dress will be business casual. If for any reason you find it inconvenient to come, will you please let us know?

Before I could answer, she terminated the call.

As I had a telecom to attend, I buzzed Lindsay to have her research Mr. Brent Worthington and send me what she found via email. I also told her to clear my schedule from eleven until three tomorrow. Then I plunged into my work and did not emerge until close of business.

Checking my email before leaving the office, I discovered Lindsay’s plenteous haul of information in a terse textual summary with fifteen attachments. Lindsay’s postscript to her email spoke volumes: ‘Mr. Worthington is one of the richest and most powerful men in Phoenix, if not the US!’

I spent the evening reviewing the files on Worthington. Henry James might have done the Worthington family justice only with a female narrator capable of reading vacuous minds. I was convinced it was not much fun for anyone to be named Worthington. The family’s bad luck was equivalent to its immense fortune.

I began to understand the sadness in Sarah’s eyes. Among a vicious, jealous and greedy brood, she was, in effect, in a prison of her family’s devising. It seemed to me that as soon as the old man passed, she would be elbowed aside as the thundering herd of relatives devoured his fortune. I had witnessed the same denouement in my own family, so I knew the score. I resolved to enjoy the obligatory lunch and escape. I had no idea at the time that, once I entered the vortex, escape would not be an option.

The Worthington Estate was a version of paradise, even with the imposing abodes of North Scottsdale. Verdant foliage, a system of streams, ponds and bubbling fountains enriched the spacious grounds through which peeked Spanish architecture, with ochre roof tiles and sun-drenched white stucco. It was an oasis of comfortable, established wealth in the Sonora Desert.

Gretchen, the liveried chauffeuse, drove me in the gray Rolls-Royce to the door where Oscar, the butler, stood waiting for me with an immaculate towel over his arm. He escorted me to the atrium which was replete with palms, elephant food and lilies.

There, at a table next to a pond with giant koi, sat Mr. Worthington and his daughter, Sarah. Mr. Worthington extended his hand. When I shook it, he guided me to my seat beside him. Sarah sat across from me. A maid named Susanna brought us Margaritas and served lunch of gazpacho soup and leafy salad.

I’m delighted you could make time to come to lunch today, Mr. Sanderson. I wanted to thank you and see you in daylight. I’ve done a little research on your background. Being the CEO of a privately owned company must keep you busy. I’m glad, though, you take the time to visit the opera occasionally. Last night’s premier was a treat, at least for us. What did you think of it?

An almost forgotten masterpiece! I exclaimed. The cast did the work justice. I wish I could find a way to applaud the anonymous donors who made the performance possible. I knew the underwriters must have spent a small fortune on the production.

Worthington smiled. Some donors prefer to remain in the shadows for a wide variety of reasons. Your background suggests you appreciate that.

I looked at Sarah, who held my gaze with a twinkle in her eyes. Since I had not been asked a question, I remained silent.

Worthington smiled and continued, Phoenix is going to be the fifth largest metropolitan region in the county within the next fifteen years. Growth is inevitable. Yet for all the growth, only a few people are nurturing the arts in Sun Valley. Sarah manages my philanthropies, don’t you, dear?

Sarah looked down at her Margarita. I follow your directions, Father. Fortunately, our family has enough to spread around.

Worthington nodded, I stay alive each day to continue giving. I spent my youth taking. That was fun, but insubstantial in the long run. He shook his head. Some members of my family want my fortune so they can spend it on frivolities. I’ll have none of that nonsense. Unless they earn a fortune on their own merits, they’ll get none of mine as an inheritance. What do you think of that idea, Albert? I hope you don’t mind my using your first name. Please call me Brent.

I don’t mind in the least, Brent. You’ve done background work on me. I’ve done a Google search on you as well. You are a self-made man. Your gifts rival those of Croesus. I suspect your fortune will be managed by you from the grave through a labyrinth of trusts. Sarah here is likely your alter ego and the guarantor of your legacies reaching where you predispose. I expect your relatives will do everything they can to break your Will and invade your trusts. I don’t envy Sarah in the event of your passing. I saw her take a deep breath. She got a faraway look in her eyes.

Sarah, Worthington replied, is my angel. My concern is for her ultimate welfare. It’s one reason I invited you here today. I have a proposition for you which is straightforward, no strings attached. Will you hear me out?

Sir, it’s your lunch. I’m always open to proposals. My business is to sift and winnow proposals. It intrigued me that this tycoon should offer a proposal today at what was supposed to be a personal, not professional, lunch.

Seeing I was willing to listen to her father, Sarah rose from the table and walked in the garden just out of earshot as her father talked.

I have come to a point in my infirmity when I cannot go to major cultural events in Phoenix as I used to, which you witnessed when I collapsed in the men’s room at the opera. My daughter cannot go unaccompanied to the events I sponsor. What I’d like you to do is to be her companion on seven Thursday evenings of our selection. If you agree, I will provide the tickets and transportation as well as fine dining at select restaurants. What do you say?

I reflected on his proposal. Will you tell me why, of all the men in Phoenix, you want me to escort Sarah to these events?

He knit his brow for a moment before he responded. First, you are decidedly not family. You therefore have no potential for conflict of interest. Second, you have your own fortune. Again, I see no conflict of interest. Third, you are single and tall enough at six foot eight to make Sarah feel comfortable in your presence. Fourth, you are a culture vulture, much as I was and would like to be, but cannot. Do those reasons satisfy you?

It was my turn to nod. I inquired, Don’t you think we should ask Sarah about your proposal?

Worthington beckoned to Sarah. When she came back to the table, he turned to me and said, Please let Sarah know what we’ve been scheming. His eyes twinkled.

Sarah squinted at him, then she turned to hear me out.

Your father has proposed I accompany you to seven cultural events on Thursday nights. I’ll only do so on the condition that you agree to attend those events with me. Will you?

Sarah sighed and looked at her father. My father has complained he’s getting too old for evening outings. Yet we need to show our support. I cannot go alone to these events for many reasons. But I don’t appreciate it that father has asked you to be my date. It makes the occasions awkward. He didn’t offer you money to do this, did he? She shook her head and took a sip of her Margarita.

I smiled. He did not offer me money. I would not have accepted it if he had done so. He did offer me tickets, transport and meals. I can afford to pay for those, if you like. In fact, I do enjoy going to cultural happenings. I often go unaccompanied by choice as not many women of my acquaintance in the Valley are educated or refined. Since you are both, I think we might have fun together. The only problem will be keeping our dates from reaching the newspapers.

Sarah smiled back and said, You don’t have to worry about the paparazzi. All it would take is a phone call from Father to quell any rumors. Isn’t that right, Father?

I looked at Worthington, who hesitated before he answered. It might be a good idea to offer Mr. Sanderson a place on the board of our charitable Trust. Everyone will understand that a member of the board must oversee our sponsored events.

Sarah furrowed her brow. Then she asked me, What do you think of that suggestion, Mr. Sanderson?

Please call me Albert. I would have no objection if the appointment was for a limited term and for no more remuneration than a dollar a year.

Sarah bit her lower lip. Then she told her father, I’ll arrange for the appointment and have Wendell prepare the papers for your signature. Turning toward me, she continued: I’ll prepare a list of our date nights so you can do advance planning. We insist on paying for your tickets, transport and meals as expenses of the Trust. If you need a statement of those expenses, you’ll receive it. Let me suggest, though, we make your board appointment temporary but with the option of permanency. Would that be all right with you?

I acquiesced with a nod. This seemed to be a prearranged signal for Oscar to materialize at my side. Worthington extended his hand to shake on the deal. Sarah likewise extended her hand, which felt moist and soft.

I rose from the table and followed the butler back to the front door where Gretchen was polishing the Rolls with a chamois. She opened the door and, once I had entered, closed it. She drove me back to my office. We arrived there at two-thirty, sharp.

That evening I received an email from Sarah Worthington Howard with attachments for my appointment as a temporary member of the board of the Worthington Charitable Trust and for fourteen tickets for seven Thursday events. From the email text I understood that Sarah’s tickets were included with mine and that I would be picked up and dropped off at my home by Gretchen at specified times for each outing.

The next morning, Lindsay interrupted my ten o’clock office break by delivering the latest copy of the Arizona Republic with the formal announcement of my appointment as a board member. It included my file photo from the newspaper’s archives. Lindsay told me a female reporter had called to do a story on my involvement on the board. She wanted an interview at three p.m. today. Lindsay told me my schedule was open for a half hour. I sighed and approved the interview.

Harriet Furbish arrived at precisely three o’clock. I had read a few of her society-page articles. She wrote with flair and with sensitivity to hidden agendas. A native Phoenician, she kept an eye on big money and knew when a good story lay behind the facts.

Lindsay ushered the reporter into my office and served us both iced water. After she obtained my agreement for her to record the interview, Harriet got right down to business.

Mr. Sanderson, congratulations on your appointment to the board of the Worthington Charitable Trust.

Thank you, Harriet. I’m delighted to be involved in one of the most magnanimous cultural benefactors of the community. I did not seek the appointment, and it’s only temporary. I expect I’ll just be seeing more of what I like best - cultural events throughout Sun Valley.

The reporter shifted in her seat and, with her eyebrow arched, asked, Exactly how did you become involved in this almost secret benefaction?

I nodded and replied, "By chance I met Mr. Brent Worthington at the Arizona Opera premier of Arizona Lady. He invited me to lunch and proposed I join his board. I accepted, provided that the appointment be temporary."

And why did you want your appointment to be temporary? She was looking directly into my eyes.

I felt I wanted to understand how much I might contribute to the vision of the Trust. My schedule is rather full. I hope I can provide a value add. If not …

Was your appointment made by Mr. Brent Worthington or by Ms. Sarah Worthington Howard, or both? She furrowed her brow.