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The Future Fire Speculative Fiction, Cyberpunk, Dark Fantasy Issue 2006.05 ISSN: 1746-1839 Fiction by: Jerome Kemp Lynda Williams Interview with Cory Doctorow The Speculative Meme-Pool DistributedFuture Fire 2006.05 free on the web1 at http://futurefire.net The Future Fire: Issue 2006.05 May rabid dogs tear out your entrails, and dance all night to the sweet music of your agonised screaming. Trad. [?Dorsetshire] greeting. Table of Contents: Fiction Jerome Kemp, ‘Happy Days’ (3) Lynda Williams, ‘Making History’ (7) Nonfiction Interview with Cory Doctorow (12) The Speculative Meme-pool (16) Reviews (17) Here is number five of The Future Fire, a slim issue this quarter, but one with an eye on the future, with the emphasis firmly on speculative matters more than the dark hints of recent months. We have two stories set firmly in the science-fictional tradition of the future, an interview with Cory Doc- torow who talks about the future of information culture, and of course more offerings for the specu- lative meme-pool. We've pretty much cleared our backlog in this issue, so if you have any stories, articles, or items for review that you've been meaning to send in, now is a perfect moment to catch us without too much to do. It's going to be an interesting world. Why not write it? March 2006 The Future Fire (c) 2006 ISSN: 1746-1839 The magazine retains non-exclusive rights for this publication only, and to all formatting and layout; all other rights have been asserted by and remain with the individual authors and artists. Fiction submissions: [email protected] Articles and reviews: [email protected] See submission guidelines at http://futurefire.net/about/contrib.html Future Fire 2006.05 2 ( ‘Happy Days’ (c) 2006 by Jerome Kemp Artwork (cc) 2006 by Djibril Only last night I was standing in front of the mirror dirgey, a little meditative: the bass lines and drum admiring myself: a snub, yet bulbous nose; eyes in a beats playing a hypnotic, rather than a deafening role. permanent squint; a dribbly, brown-toothed grin; Looking about I took in the same old gatherings of thirty-six years old with nothing on top but a few lank, good-looking people, and as usual they seemed pretty mud-coloured strands. And I hadn't come by any of anxious. Or were they good-looking? Well, most of these attributes through abuse, self or other: I was just them were; or if not good, then at least nice-looking: born that way. Believe it or not, a few years ago my you somehow had the impression that until recently, appearance depressed me a bit. But not any more: life's until it all began to change, they'd been trauma-free, too short (as they used to say). happy, or at least not really depressed: that much was So, being in a pretty good mood, I splashed on obvious. And, by contrast, there were one or two some Joop, relishing the sting it gave my acne, and off frankly nerdy, or even ugly-looking people, and peo- I went to the pub. I wasn't planning on meeting anyone ple you'd have otherwise regarded as fucked-up, look- in the pub. I thought I'd just try my luck. Although a ing curiously smug. few years ago I'd been a write-off as far as success I ordered a pint of Stella and decided that, in spite with the opposite sex was concerned, things had defi- of my happiness, I'd get pretty drunk tonight anyway. nitely changed: oh yes, things had changed alright. It didn't take long before I spotted a woman who The Hindenburg wasn't really a pub as such: just a seemed to fit the bill. She was pretty—a petite place that specialised in selling Belgian lagers. Its inte- blonde—and, not surprisingly, looked ill at ease. I rior was minimalist and metallic, and gave a peculiar watched her for a moment or two; it was the rabbity, impression of hollowness even when you couldn't nervous smile that did it: a smile that seemed to be move for people. But it was handy, at the end of my aimed at me. road, and stayed open late. I suppose in a sense you'd She was standing there with these two other have had to describe the music they played as depress- women, pretty too, but apparently attached to a couple ing: that's to say it wasn't in any way up-tempo. It was of Handsome Bastards—poor sods. So anyway, I Future Fire 2006.05 3 strolled over to the blonde. I suppose you could say I'd that now; I didn't want to put her off. In spite of every- got that thing they call confidence. I said: thing, women were still women: you still had to watch "Hello, I'm Victor," and gave her a good view of what you said. So we talked a bit more about what we my pretty repulsive teeth. did, as if it mattered. We seemed to keep up this pre- She responded with another twitchy smile, and just tence, and I could see that she was almost managing to about managed to tell me her name was Petra. We convince herself that what she did and who she was, pulled up a couple of stools at the bar. Like I guessed, her incarnation on this planet, was all to some purpose. the Handsome Bastards didn't mind, not just because I think I may have detracted from this, brought her they were with these other two (if indeed they were): back down to earth, when I told her what I did: that I they were just a bit pathetic. You could tell that a few composed dirges (a recent 'musical' phenomenon), and years ago these were the sorts of tossers who'd have was beginning to have some slight success, in spite of been grinning their heads off, leering loudly over the the economy being an absurdity. women, all exuberant self-confidence. And, of course, I was getting the Stella down at a pretty steady the women would have been loving every minute of it. rate, but I noticed that Petra was now starting to really I guessed that that would have included the woman knock it back. Yes, it was that talk of dirge music, I was trying it on with right now. Yes, things had must have brought it all home to her—she couldn't get changed alright. She almost seemed a bit desperate, away from it, none of us could. On the other hand, poor thing. It had affected everyone in different ways, maybe she was only thinking an hour or two ahead, but there was no doubt that it was the formerly suc- and dealing with that other difficult reality of what I cessful, beautiful, and happy (funny how these things looked like. often used to go together) who'd been hit the hardest: Anyway, it certainly seemed that the drink was they had so much more to lose. And yet Petra, as I getting to her because having only a moment ago now found out, still worked as a media lawyer, still feigned bafflement, she now wanted to investigate my went in there, did her thing—even though it was all so happiness a bit further. pointless. But then again, as the government kept say- "I've met a few people like you recently—over the ing, you had to carry on, didn't you? past few months," she said; "it's the Scarmon thing, After telling me about her job Petra came over all isn't it? It's as if you guys—and girls too, some of dejected and said: them, but it's the guys you notice more—it's as if "I hate this place. I don't know why I come here you've come out of the woodwork or something." anymore. I used to really love it. On Friday nights, it "We were always there," I said. I thought about it was great. But now…" for a second, taking a good swig, and then went ahead: "Yeah," I said, understanding, and to an extent "the reason you don't notice the girls so much, I mean agreeing. I mean, it certainly was an awful place, but the girl equivalent to blokes like me, is to do with sex. everything was awful anyway, and to me that had A generalisation I know, but for men like me, when it somehow become a source of comfort. "I know what all turned around we sort of became more attractive." I you mean." paused here, but Petra seemed alright with it, she let it "But you don't seem that bothered. You don't pass. "It seems that men can, in certain extreme cir- seem… you're different. My other friends," she ges- cumstances, be attractive to women, even if they look tured over to the group she'd come in with, "they're so like me. But it's less likely to happen the other way down about it all, you know. Well, so am I, we all are. round—for girls I mean, because men judge so much But then there are people, well, people like you I on looks, I suppose; though, then again, men have guess, who seem to see it differently, who almost seem never been very fussy. But the real thing is women okay about it.

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