Brilliant! Can I vote on this somewhere?

On Fri, Sep 18, 2009 at 9:46 PM, archytas <[email protected]> wrote:

>
> This is my entry to the New Scientist science fiction competition (340
> words, open until mid-October).
>
> The New Europans
>
> Jenkins crashed out in the living quarters, 'mushroom juice' leaking
> from his lips, eyes bright, mind given up to peace. Europa was hard,
> desolate work. A slug of his now cold potion and I joined his dream.
> The transit ship was due tomorrow to take our bodies back to a bliss
> of gravity they could understand and time away from the plasma bubbled
> protection from cosmic radiation death that was the truth of space-
> work. Earth was still the only home we could know, even after the wars
> of the mid-twenty-first Century. There were homes elsewhere in the
> universe. Europa had given up peculiar life from its underground
> ocean, living on radiation and gravity-rift energy from Jupiter and
> different paced transits of its main moons. Jenko motioned to take
> another sip of the foul swill that eased the pull of competing
> gravitation, to dream of not being human or of sweet women and cold
> beer on sun-warmed sands. I eased the bowl to lips marked by the
> strange burn of apparently purified water from the depths below, then
> set some stew to fester on the geo-thermal stove. Dull stuff, but
> better than we'd get on the weightless voyage and exercise regime via
> Moonbase Three to our eco-bubble on Earth. We liked to pretend to
> survive our six-month shift like civilised men discussing philosophy.
> Other crews were carried out babbling and feet first. This concern
> with 'face' was a vestige of what was left Anglo-Saxon in our DNA.
> Chris, the younger man was more spliced up than me and hacked the
> conditions better until boredom loomed on us like a fog. He was too
> young to remember fog. I slumped beside him, a last knowing look
> between our eyes that the morning, whatever one was in these
> artificial conditions, began our trip to the cold lager we remembered
> and the women who had forgotten us. New life rested quietly in the
> sample flask. A first hope, perhaps, of a future beyond the human.
>
> The idea is to write a few words based 100 years from now.
> >
>

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