The Transhuman Comedy

We left the north dock of the New Ruidoso arcology about ten in the morning. The brown terrain, scuffed by low brush, flowed beneath our aircars. The jagged paired peaks of Mesa Doble loomed on the right and the autopilot took us close enough to see the strata of pale and dark rock striping across the mesa.

"Far enough?" Derome asked from the trailing aircar. Our aircar projected his voice to sound as if it came from behind us.

Our aircar also answered his question, 14.8 km, but I turned my head anyway to pour the data into deeper parts of my brain and the aircar obliged by blocking my eye's view of the cabin's back wall with a camera-collected view through the air behind us. Derome's aircar, like ours an aerofoil cabin with two lifters mounted on forward, chicane nacelles, had passed Mesa Doble. Behind the mesa, fading in the haze, New Ruidoso climbed, its jagged profile formed of sharp edges, a mimic of the mesa. They said New Ruidoso's architecture showed respect for the natural landscape, but at that moment it seemed to mock it with its size and its straight lines. Inside our relatives and acquaintances dreamed in Virtual, tended by machines, sheltered by buckytube walls.

"Far enough," I said.

Derome's aircar yawed a bit and then sped up. He'd already punched the hacked-up override. "Race you to the river and back!" he shouted as he passed us.

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posted by Raymund  # 6:14 AM