Author's foreword—
Check out my previously posted submissions here on Literotica! This short story is my fifth, so it'd be easier for you to go to my profile and check out my archive of older postings. Enjoy!
* * * * * * *
In The Year 2127
Deela stepped out of the turbolift and yawned. It had been just another day working in the salt mines—or the hydroponic gardens as the case may be. She was in charge of fifty subterranean acres of the Van Voss Agra-Lunar Facility, located eighteen hundred feet below the surface of the Sea of Storms on the Moon.
The Moon had been colonized long before Deela was born. Earth was rapidly running out of living space and, in 2032, nine major world powers set aside their differences and decided to mount a serious joint colonization effort to establish the first city on the Moon. Dirt imported from Earth had been mixed with lunar soil in hollowed out caverns for the growing of crops and livestock, and nuclear- and solar-power facilities built to provide electricity. The first lunar city, New Washington, was declared self-sustaining on December 7, 2041—ironically the 100
th
anniversary of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, which spurred the entry of the United States into World War II. As of today—Sunday, April 25, 2127—there are nine major cities on the Moon, as well as thirty-three suburbs. Deela was headed from her employer in New Tucson to her home in the upscale suburb of Kendallville.
Deela strolled across the cavernous lobby toward the mag-lift tube that would carry her home. The sky was just as black as always and Earth looked like two-thirds of a white-streaked blue marble hanging twenty-eight degrees above the southeast horizon. She felt a low vibration in the floor and looked toward the north—the Repulsor Drive ship
John W. Adams, Jr.
was taking off from Asimov Spaceport, headed for the colonies on Mars. While the Moon was well-colonized and home to over eighteen million people, Mars was having trouble getting her own colonies established. Humans had been trying to colonize Mars for the past twelve years but the quality of the soil varied. Mars had indeed supported life in her far distant past, and humanity's re-introduction of oxygen and water to the red planet caused long-dormant microbes to become active again. That life had to eat and had a habit of decimating crops, but it had an apparent fondness for hair. Clippings were being placed around plots of crops as a sacrificial element to the microbes; those experiments were showing promise. Until the experiments could be fully confirmed, however, the New Anchorage colony couldn't fully sustain itself yet and had to import food from the lunar colonies.
Thankfully, the Repulsor Drive had been perfected by 2047 and put into full service in 2053. Now, instead of waiting for Earth and Mars to be close proximity to each other in their orbits to launch a seven-month journey, a Repulsor Drive ship like the
Adams
—named for the famous 21
st
Century author who first coined the phrase "Repulsor Drive" and laid out the basic parameters of that drive in his fiction novels—could make the same trip in just five hours. If the launch was scheduled for when Earth and Mars were on opposite sides of the sun, however, the journey became much longer—about five days. Once New Anchorage was declared self-sustaining, the United Earth Council had long-range plans in place to begin colonization of Io and Ganymede, two of Jupiter's moons, by 2160. Saturn's moons of Mimas, Rhea and Titan wouldn't see colonization until at least 2195, while the moons of Umbreil and Oberon around Uranus would have to wait until 2220. Neptune's moons of Nereid and Triton were next on the list though timeframes had not been established yet.
Deela felt the mag-lift accelerate as she looked out at the dusty white lunar landscape. She didn't have a man in her life and was lonely. There were ways of making do, of course, but sometimes a woman needed the embrace of another living human. An electronic but pleasant female voice announced the Kendallville station was coming up and for the passengers to prepare for deceleration. Deela braced her feet against the legs of the seat in front of her. The mag-lift slowed, generating a force of about two Earth Gs. The inertia felt good and Deela decided to splurge by setting her apartment's gravity augmentation system for one hundred twenty percent of Earth-normal. Doing so used more power and increased her electric bill; it was similar to an Earth resident running their air conditioning in the summer and seeing a higher electric bill from it. No matter—she could afford it. She planned to do her aerobic and kickboxing exercises and needed the resolute pull of good ol' fashioned gravity to make the effort worth her while. Exercising in the Moon's normal one-sixth gravity was about as challenging as wrestling with a cat.
Deela stepped off the mag-lift and headed for the turbolifts. Her apartment was on the 227
th
floor of her 351-floor building. She had an excellent view and loved to sit on her balcony, admiring the lunar vista far below and watching ships arrive and depart from Asimov Spaceport in New Tucson, about twenty kilometers away. "Good afternoon," she said to the turbolift operator, stepping aboard.
"Good afternoon," he replied, tipping his uniform hat in a show of ancient chivalry. Bez was 96 years old. He sold his home on Marie Street in Talbott, Tennessee twenty-eight years ago and moved to the Moon as a way of coping with his arthritis. The lighter gravity did wonders for him; he frequently chased women like he was one-third his age. His doctor said he should set his gravity augmentation system to at least eighty percent of Earth-normal for at least six hours a week, no less. Bez ignored the advice. "You'll be dead by the time you're 130 if you're not careful," the doctor warned. Bez thanked her, paid his bill, fired up a nicotine-free cigar and headed for the nearest pub.
The door opened at 227 and Deela stepped out. Bez admired the sway of her might fine behind until the doors closed again. She stepped into scanning range of her apartment's front door, touched an amber pad and waited as it scanned her. It examined things like skin tone, pulse, EEG, and compared her DNA to what it had on file. A second later, it confirmed her identity and that she was alive and breathing. A green light appeared next to the amber pad and her door slid open.
Deela stepped in and the door slid shut. "Computer," she called as she kicked off her shoes. Her household concierge computer indicated it was active and listening by making a pleasant electronic rendition of a bird's chirp. "Check vid-mail and voicemail inboxes."
The electronic bird's chirp was heard again to confirm it heard and was doing her bidding.
"Voicemail is negative,"
the female voice of her computer announced. "
You have four video e-mails."
"Identify senders," Deela requested as she went into her kitchen.
The bird chirp acknowledged.
"One is from your brother,"
it reported. "
Two are from your mother and one is from Sir Arthur."
Deela's heart froze at the mention of Sir Arthur. "Open and summarize into vocal text the vid-mail from Sir Arthur!" she ordered, her voice shaking.
Bird chirp
