Surviving the Future, If You Can - Five Classic Science Fiction Stories

By Susan Hart

These five stories are: The Scavengers - A calamity wipes out most of earth’s population. Mountain Of The Ancients - In a post apocalyptic future, earth has reverted to a low-tech way of life. Recreating Genius - A collector of antique music and instruments becomes an alcoholic. Duplicity is a story set in the near future and it’s about a female police detective. Radiation Can Really Mess Things Up, is a classic Sci-Fi story about what happens when you aren’t monitoring the site of a nuclear disaster quite closely enough.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 9, 2015
• ISBN: 9781329679757

Susan Hart

I was born in England, but have lived in Southern California for many years. I m now retired and live in the Pacific NW in a little seaside city amongst the giant redwoods and wonderful harbor, almost at the Oregon border. My husband and I have one cat, called Midnight and she is featured in two of my latest Sci-Fi short stories. I love Science Fiction, animals, and trying to help others. I publish under Doreen Milstead as well as my own name. My photo was taken right before the coronation of QE II in the UK.

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Surviving the Future, If You Can - Five Classic Science Fiction Stories

Surviving the Future, If You Can - Five Classic Science Fiction Stories

By

Susan Hart

Copyright 2015 Susan Hart

The Scavengers

Synopsis: The Scavengers - After a calamity wiped out most of earth’s population a hundred years before, the remaining million or so souls has divided up into two basic groups: Men in lodges whose life consists of scavenging for the remains of civilization along the coast, and groups of females who use men as draft animals and for impregnation. Everything was moving along fairly smoothly until the Martians landed.

Chapter 1

King Joseph looked at the glass tube the apprentice had found and wondered if they could use it. There were always plenty of glass items under the tosh on the beach. Glass took a long time to break down. It wasn’t organic and didn’t collapse into its molecular substitutes as quickly as something made out of polyurethane. He held it up to the sun and tried to find any kind of manufacturing stamp on it. Nothing. It was probably left over from a bottle, although the tube appeared to be intact, not broken. He handed it back to the boy.

Not a bad find, Luke, he told him, "but I don’t think the Zons are going to have much use for it. We need to locate the kind of things they’ll trade.

King Joseph wore a leather jacket which they’d found in a rare cache of leather goods. Somehow the trailer was missed by the tsunami which hit the coast fifty years ago, wiping out most of the cities in the lower portion of the Atlantic. From the location, they surmised it was picked up by the wave and sent fifty miles inland, before the wave subsided.

They found the rusted and decayed remains of automobiles and buses on top of it. The ancient trailer had yielded up much to them and they were grateful. The tosher team working with King Joseph that day celebrated with a rare barbecue of wild pig. It was months before anyone ate good meat again.

Hard to believe the earth had lost so many riches. Hard to believe. But, he needed to keep his men motivated if they were going to follow him to the next pile of useless dreck they could scavenge. The coat gave him a sense of authority and the toshers followed him based on what it represented: A connection to the old world, a way to remember what the world had been like before the coming of the Calamity.

King Joseph wiped his dark hands on his coat and checked his arms for any scratches. The disease which spread from incidental contact could be deadly. They didn’t have enough antibiotics for everyone and he didn’t want to be stuck decided who lived and who died again. Someday, he told his people, when they had accumulated enough of the correct supplies left behind, they would rebuild, start over, and do it right.

He placed his top hat on to blot out the sun. It wasn’t too bad today, but the heat could dry a man out in a matter of minutes if they didn’t get enough water. The tosher lodge had enough tanks working to get them fresh water from the sea, but the desalination equipment could work only so hard. Repairs were expensive and he didn’t relish having to find someone to fix the machines as far as they were from the settlement.

King Joseph might have a royal name, but he was dictator by election: As soon as his team returned with their stash he would resign and the lodge would return to running as a committee. This was the third time he’d been elected to dictate the reclamation hunt, it was a tough job and most people stayed away from doing it. Many bad things could happen out in the Destructive Lands.

His family had been toshers as far as anyone could remember. They were one of the lucky ones to survive the Calamity. Once a tosher had seen his hundredth pile of human bones, he was ready to take the oath and advance to the ranks of free and accepted brothers, but not until. It was why the apprentice boys wore the aprons and carried the swords for the brothers in the lodge.

The aprons represented the clothes used to carry the bodies away in the first days after the comet had struck out of the sky. The sword represented the piercing rays of the sun, which had built up to horrendous levels the year before it struck into the Atlantic Ocean, destroying most of what man had built on the earth. The Great Master Collector in the heavens had rummaged through the works of men and found it wanting.

So what are we supposed to be looking for? the apprentice tosher named Ben asked him. Is there anything specific we need to find?

Any large containers which can hold water, King Joseph replied. His left eye was covered with a patch from an infection which went out of control when he was seven. He’d survived, but the eye was too damaged to be of any use and it frightened people.

He was in charge of twelve men who the grand lodge had sent out to locate large water containers. The records they kept from other toshers indicated the place they were searching might have been a large center which stored food preparation equipment. If it was, it followed there had to be containers of metal or ceramic which might still be intact.

The Zons were very specific with what they wanted from the toshers. The last delegation returned with a detailed list of what was needed. With food supplies running low at the settlement, the lodges had come together to go out and see what they could find.

Relations between the costal scavengers, known as toshers and the farming communities further inland were never cordial. Each group resented the other. The Zons pretended they could survive without the supplies the toshers brought them and the toshers felt the Zons were arrogant and horded much of what they grew.

King Joseph moved through one of the piles of oxidized metal and tried to see if it had been disturbed. It didn’t do them much good to find piles which were already picked over. The goal was always to find a treasure of untouched material that had lasted the previous century. They didn’t find too many of those. All it took was one hole for the air and water to get in and destroy everything on the inside.

Rachel stood next to the fields at the Zon settlement fifty miles further inland. They had a lot to get done today if the harvest was going to be delivered on time. The wheat was very high for this time of year, which she attributed to the good rainfall and the prayers of the faithful. Last year the rain hadn’t come on time and they’d lost most of the fig crop. They couldn’t afford to lose any of the wheat this year. They needed it to trade with the settlers further to the ocean. They had animals to feed and crops to tend.

Rachel wrapped the linen top around her breasts and looked back at the horses pulling the plow through the harvested part of the field. It needed to be ready by next week if they were going to get the winter wheat crop in on time. She mopped the sweat off her brown and leaned on the staff she carried with her. At least she could leave her body armor at the villa. They didn’t expect any more raiders to come down from the North this year. Two years ago they nearly lost an entire herd of cattle to those savages. Every Zon was expected to be proficient in one weapon, although two was not a bad idea. Her sisters knew several besides the one they trained with. She needed to quit being dependent on the sword and shield. It was time to learn how to use a battle-ax too.

She walked over to a horse that was pulling a plow along the ground. The soil was breaking up, but it was still too dry to leave a good furrow. The horse needed to work harder and not push down so hard. She would have to take care of the sloppiness.

Don’t pull so hard! she yelled at the horse. You’re messing up the row.

Yes, Despoina, the horse said to her, using her proper title. "I will try not to be so careless the next time.

We have a lot to get planted this week, she told the horse. Winter will be here soon enough and I have to make sure the entire phalanx has enough food to eat. The horse nodded and continued to pull the plow. Another horse guided the plow from the opposite end. She didn’t like having to use two of her horses for each plow, but there wasn’t much else she could do. Her phalanx had only so many of them she could use and the crops needed to be brought in on time.

Rachel tightened her sandals and looked at the apple orchard. Four horses were doing their best to get the fruit down and into the baskets. They were all good stallions, the best she could trade in the harvest from last year. In the spring she might let her daughters have a few of them. They were getting to be the right age and it would be time for them to start their phalanx. The valley was filled with phalansteries of the Zons who founded them and their daughters who needed horses to keep them running smoothly.

She cared a lot for her horses, the draftsmen were the finest she could afford and pulled the carts to and from the fields every day. She made sure they had clean stalls and saw they were fed and clothed better than any other phalanx in the valley. Rachel was proud of her fields. Her mother had left them all to her when she was a young woman fresh from training. Rachel had just earned her spurs when she was forced to return to her family phalanx. The herd master, Jonathan, greeted her at the door after her cart, pulled by the swiftest horse she could find, arrived home. All of the horses were gathered in the center of the phalanx mourning the loss of their Despoina.

Her mother was buried the next day according to Zon custom and her bronze helmet was placed on the burial mound after the libation of wine was poured over it. She missed her mother. The older woman had planned to give Rachel four of her best stallions to start a phalanx of her own, but now she had to manage the family one, as her sisters were much too young to do the task.

She adjusted the leather girdle she wore over her waist and thought about the upcoming delegation coming from the tosher lodges on the coast. She found it disgusting she would be dealing with horses that had the audacity to view themselves equal to women. But all Zons needed the precious metals and objects the toshers harvested from the piles of refuse which remained after the Calamity. This year it would be her turn to negotiate what they had and how much food could be exchanged.

Early in the history of her people there had been war between the two groups and humanity had nearly come to an end along the coast. It was agreed between the groups to trade for what each side needed.

She shivered at the thought of having to talk with these beasts. Why did it have to be her turn this year? She sighed and realized the Omniarch of the Zon had informed Rachel last year at the annual gathering it was to be her turn.

It was also time for her to produce one final daughter. Rachel had three, but Zon were expected to birth a minimum of four. It was also considered bad form to use the same stallion twice for making a baby. She had used her three best ones in the past, but wasn’t keen on using any of the others for baby number four. She wanted some new stock to help produce her final daughter. She would have to inquire with the phalanx next to hers what stallions they might have for sale.

At dawn, Rachel packed her bags and placed them on the cart. She made sure there were plenty of wheat bags in the back of the wagon. She included a selection of the fruit the trees were bringing this year and some bushels of corn. Her daughters and the stallions came out to bid her farewell as she bridled two of her best horsemen onto the wagon. She made sure each was watered and allowed them to bend over and kiss her feet before she put the halters on them.

It was hot and they were some of the best draft horses she had in the phalanx. Rachel and her daughters went around and made sure all the tack was in place on them, including the bells she placed around their necks to make sure anyone else on the road to the tosher settlements could hear them. With the bridles around their heads, the horses would not be able to yell warnings. The bit was held in place between two metal pieces, which allowed for control of their heads. After checking and making sure the horses had their boots on and repaired, Rachel hugged her daughters and climbed into the wagon. She took out the small dressage whip and cracked it at the horsemen who picked up the shaft on each side the wagon and began walking down the road.

She traveled for a good day before reaching the tosher settlement where the treaty negotiations were to be carried out. The horses were trotting over the hill, their boots stamping on the ground when she saw a small pole in the distance with a flag fluttering in the breeze. Rachel had only been up for a few hours. She’d made camp the night before and let the horses relax as well.

They camped by the side of the road and she cooked a basic meal for all three of them before bedding down for the night. She had taken draft horses for the trip, not stallions, so she slept alone in the cart. The horses slept under the carriage. She woke in the morning before they did and soon had them in harness as the wagon continued on the way.

She carried several letters from the grand council of phalansteries and hoped the treaty could be wrapped up. Rachel didn’t like leaving her daughters at the phalanx. They hadn’t had any raids in several years, but who knew what might come riding over the hills at any moment.

The wagon pulled up in front of the flag and she looked down the hill at the tosher lodge. Rachel could feel the air roll in from the sea move across her face. She smelled the salt water and knew the time would soon come to prepare for the winter months. There would be repairs made on the barn and wood to be chopped. There was a lot to be done.

However, right now, she needed to talk to the toshers and find out if they had anything the Zon needed for their settlements. She had read some of the old books which survived the Calamity. They talked about the endless source of food and goods that existed in the distant past.

It was hard to believe any of it was true.

She pulled the reins on the horses and they trotted in the direction of the first building before the settlement. It was here all the discussions would be made. She looked out and saw a separate house for her to stay in while she remained at the tosher lodge. She was outside their stockade walls, but Rachel understood why the toshers weren’t keen on her entering their settlement. They found the horses distasteful for the same reason the Zon couldn’t understand why men were allowed a position of authority inside the tosher settlements.

Rachel pulled the wagon to a halt and climbed out of the wagon. She unhitched the horses and told them to go sit by the small cottage near the hall were the negotiations would be taking place. After she had fed both out of her hand -- they were very tame -- the horsemen walked over to the cottage and sat down, awaiting her instructions. She hoped the initial introductions wouldn’t take too long. She tossed the cloak she brought along over one shoulder and walked into the treaty hall.

Rachel hoped she wasn’t too late. The toshers liked to get started early in the morning.

The tosher delegation was sitting at their end of the table when she arrived. They stood up and bowed low to her before everyone seated again. Rachel returned the bow, still adjusting to the men in clothes at the table and sat down at a chair.

Was your trip long, Madam Rachel? the one they called King Joseph asked her from the other side. It was a little strange to be talking to men at her level, but the two groups had a begrudging respect for each other and needed things the other produced. She tried not to show her shock when he called her Madam. Not even stallions were allowed to use that term to her on the Phalanx she ran.

It was long, but I was prepared, she told him. Rachel noted two other toshers sat there with him. One was white and held a notebook of some kind. The other was the same dark color as the man who had spoken to her and carried nothing. He appeared to be some kind of scholar from the way he was reading the treaty proposal she could see in front of them. She wished there was some way she could make her daughters a present of them. They looked in excellent physical shape and would produce strong foals.

I have brought gifts from our phalansteries, she told them. Wheat, corn and some fruit. We are in need of basic repair parts for our windmills and pumps. Do you have anything for us?

The three men on the other side of the table murmured to each other and pulled up a list. They looked at the inventory and glanced back at her while going over it. Somehow she didn’t think they had everything the phalansteries needed to survive. There were other settlements further down the shore to the south, but reaching them was not easy, it took months of travel. The best options were always to trade with each other.

In her mother’s day, the Zons were not even aware of the tosher settlements on the coast. They were too few in number and had to protect each other. The tradition handed down by their grandmothers, and before, talked about small bands of women who protected each other from the mobs which roamed across the land in the days after the Calamity. After the water subsided and the sun no longer roasted the ground, these women emerged from the shelters they had constructed with the men they’d taken below to begin living on the surface once again. She assumed the toshers had similar stories.

King Joseph looked up at the women with the wrap around her. It was crucial the lodge finish negotiations with her for the basic food they would need to survive through the next winter. Their lodge had grown considerably in the last few years and there were more children to feed. But they didn’t have the tools and other items the Zons were demanding. He was aware of some of his lodge brothers who were suggesting they slip out in the middle of the night the way they used to do and take what was needed from these insane women who treated their men like slaves.

After all, how could they continue to work with such people?

No one knew what the Zons did to keep their men in line and few of their horses ever tried to leave. In one of the first exchanges they did with the women to the East, the tosher lodges had almost left the negotiation hall when the woman sent to from the Zons requested a few of their men in exchange for twenty bushels of processed corn meal. It took a few years of discussions before the Zon learned this was never to be asked again.

Rachel was starting to feel the midday heat from the sun beating down on the meeting hall. She had tired of the three men whispering among themselves and took her cloak off, wrapping it around the chair where she was seated. Too late she realized she had committed a social error in the eyes of the other delegation. They froze and stared at her. Carefully, she picked the cloak back up and wrapped it around her breasts.

King Joseph was relived his fellow delegates did not say a word and went back to the list. It wasn’t every day they saw a woman take her top off and sit bare-chested in front of them. The Zon woman was healthy, to use the common term. She could have nursed half the village with those breasts. They just stood there and looked at her before she covered herself again. Did these women really walk around their men uncovered? He was told by someone who had reason to visit one of their settlements, that they didn’t wear clothes at all in the summer months.

The two horses that were resting outside were only clad in some work boots and breech clothes.

We haven’t located many of the parts you were asking about, King Joseph finally spoke up. We hope to find them eventually, but you have to understand: There are mountains of tosh left over by the ancestors. We still don’t know if any of them have been plundered in the past. We never know what a mound will contain until we breech the outer levels. Most of what is at the surface is unusable and corroded beyond help.

Did you find anything we could use? she asked, looking frustrated.

We have some containers you can use to carry water, King Joseph told her. I know you were looking for those and I had them brought up to the hall. Would you like to see them?

Rachel nodded and stood up from the table. She followed the other three men outside and looked at the assortment of glass and metal containers on the ground. Rachel walked over and picked each one up, looking for holes. They seemed intact, but she was supposed to bring back specific parts for the pumps and windmills they used on the phalansteries. The council would be furious if she negotiated away their excess crops for some buckets and washbasins.

King Joseph and his men watched the muscular woman pick up the containers and look them over. He was always amazed by the physical prowess of these women. Some time ago, one of the negotiators tested out a spear by hurling it into