Might be better if we fleshed out a book between us mate. We obviously have time on our hands on our 'trip' back to Earth before Europa's 'water' alters us forever (perhaps giving us something women will never forget!) - currently we can't even build a ship that will get us to Mars and back because we can't get enough weight in orbit to protect us from cosmic radiation, let alone what Jupiter might chuck our way (our genes would be well and truly spliced). With Seven-of- Nine out there in the delta-quadrant it seems a shame to be held back by such trifles as gravity and the speed of light, especially as she is wasting so much time in regeneration rather than the leisure activities she so clearly craves (you can get your 3-dimensional chess up to speed). I think the NS editorial staff do the marking.
One possible ending would have us on an initially godforsaken planet beyond Alpha Proxima, space-ship screwed by an inadvertent piss in the wrong place whilst juiced out, gradually farming hops and herbs and about to toss on who would 'splice' to female just as a couple of alien beauties wash up at our hastily constructed beach bar. Sex would be their means of communicating the knowledge and joys of the universe to us ... On 19 Sep, 03:52, Chris Jenkins <[email protected]> wrote: > 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. --~--~---------~--~----~------------~-------~--~----~ You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups ""Minds Eye"" group. To post to this group, send email to [email protected] To unsubscribe from this group, send email to [email protected] For more options, visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/minds-eye?hl=en -~----------~----~----~----~------~----~------~--~---
