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Thomas
October 17th, 2002, 12:57 PM
The Émigré

The underground networks of vast caverns drilled, blown-up by great and powerful machines screamed by the émigré Post-Marxist Revolutionary. Why am I leaving Kigyu? The silent man asked himself while relaxing, his neural directives spreading calm across his body. The Revolutionary had recently instilled himself with emotive transplants in his brain and they had done wonders, it was truly a new fashion among humanity and everybody was getting on to it. Of course as usual the workers and drones of humanspace were left out of these wondrous inventions since only the rich and privileged had the best of starlife.
Of course, that’s why I’m in the business of Revolution, eh? The émigré chided to himself, since there had been little success recently. True the bombing of one of the Fellowship meetings at Jung City had been a success and killed thirty leading capitalists but in general the Experiments had failed and a true spacefaring workers consciousness hadn’t been developed. The Émigré had never experienced this doubt in his scientific faith before and it deeply troubled him. Post-Marxism was the true salvation for humanspace and with the wonders of biotechnology these days the furtive preborn attempts on Old Earth had long been forgotten.
The Émigré was massaged out of his long soda-bed and with the help of a drone, a personal helper in the luxury A2 Class passenger fleet of the train networks, went over to his suite. The hologram sphere was there and the émigré ordered subvocally to the info transmitter for the latest humanspace news.
At least there is some positive news; at least the Iridy Post-Marxist Revolution had occurred. The news claimed that that the planet remained under the forces of Principal Kanyi, a feared PM (Post-Marxist) Communist who had taken power after subverting the militia there in a twenty year unnoticed campaign.
Hah, that had brought the living daylights out of the capitalists! The émigré chucked to himself silently, remembering the panic across the many stellar settlements in humanspace when the news of the Revolution occurred. Ever since though times had been tough for the Émigré and his fellow revolutionaries with secret police torturing and killing fellow comrades while Principles of the Post-Marxists were assassinated by anti-Communists.
The Persecution, as it was called in Post-Marxist circles continued and after another failed operation the Revolutionary wondered whether it was all really worth it. The émigré looked around amid his wonderful, grand and luxurious environment and felt and pang of guilt. Every mastersuite was designed so that the passenger could choose whatever style he or she preferred and the émigré decided on a Old English Style, he had always had a touch spot on old English stately homes. The striking red walls were surrounded with a odd mix of Georgian style furniture and advanced hit-tech technology including a vast hologram, which could be turned into a painting or a simulatory scene of deserts, space or any other kind which took the passengers fancy. At the moment the beautiful and stark scene of the vast monoliths of Wyuili dominated the left-hand wall. These strange kilometre tall buildings where shaped in vastly tall oblong shapes amid the grey planet which manufactured a funny sensation which the émigré couldn’t completely describe. Music was quietly sounding from the unseen sounding-boxes in the room of Neo-classical music of the 22nd century.
Outside the vast great train came to a halt and the subpersona of the mastersuite subvocally told the émigré the need to get of the train. Passenger, it is now 12:54; the mastertrain is at Station 32 Coulee, you to get of now. Your personal drone will take your possessions. Have a good trip and please come again. The soft sound of the synthetic voice stopped and the émigré mumbled a Thankyou, and quickly helped the drone, which was whizzing around the vast group of luxurious rooms to get his luggage ready. The room slowly turned neutral again, the Old English Georgian Style slowly disappeared as the émigré got ready to leave the train for his new destination and mission. Taking a final goodbye, the émigré closed his eyes for a moment and taking the revolving steps down left the train for the last time.
The great passenger station was vast. At least a kilometre long, the vast white pillars in the neo-classical style so popular these days rose to the skies it seemed, the artificial sky was a lit up bright blue with tinges of green clouds. Across the émigré spoke to the drone,
‘Where is the route to the starship carrier Starlight Drone?’ The Drone answered in a flat human voice, something near to normal humans voice anywhere, thought the émigré, that it was far to the north. The émigré turned his body, put his left hand just above his eyes, in a automatic human gesture and sweeped the distance. Of course he didn’t really need to do that, and used his zoom abilities in his eyes and noticed a small sign for the Starship Passenger Zone.
A Fellowship human brushed past him, his distinctive purple garb with gold cords on his waist and the émigré had a moment of fear inside him. Was that some elaborate mission by some intelligence agency to keep me in track? But the émigré, as soon as the thought crossed his mind swept it away again. Even so he promised to remind himself to check his clothing when the time was right for any nano-bleepers or other bugs. The Fellowship was a remarkable faction, vastly rich Trans-international trading barons they were enormously rich, individually and collectively and a powerful influence across humanspace. Naturally Post-Marxists couldn’t stand them; they were the richest and most powerful capitalists anywhere in humanspace.
The émigré decided to move and started walking towards the destination and started going through the instructions for his next mission…

Rob B
October 17th, 2002, 01:06 PM
Thomas:

Please don't post your story in the forums. Submit it to the Web site and we will post it in our short story section.

Once you respond to this post, I will trim down your story as it takes up a lot of space for one topicl.

~~On behalf of SFFWorld...
FitzFlagg

Thomas
October 18th, 2002, 12:51 PM
Sorry, I won't do it again, where do I send future short stories?

milamber_reborn
October 19th, 2002, 03:15 AM
Click on Short Stories at the top of the site, and there will be a link for submitting.