THE WRITER’S LIFE | FLASH FICTION
I’ve just completed the third character prequel short story for Cyrus Song: That of Doctor Hannah Jones in the book, written by her as a teenager (to be published in a couple of weeks), as were the Simon Fry and Captain Mamba prequels (the latter with an extra human protagonist). The latter two were set in the 1980s, when I myself was a teenager, and Hannah’s story is c.2000. I’ve previously re-published stories here which I wrote around that time, when I was experimenting with writing in my late 20s. But I did also write a couple of stories when I myself was a teenager, back in the 1980s, and this is one such.
Adapted later for my anthology, and included as a story called ‘The Message’, this is the original, with just the names of Presidents changed. In 1985, I imagined a world 40 years ahead, where America had split, ceding one half to Russia. As world politics has changed (although not a great deal), the same threats remain and others have emerged.
My vision when Frankie Goes to Hollywood sang Two Tribes, was of a future world split roughly between two polar mindsets: That of the capitalist right wing, and of the co-operative left. It was a very simplified scenario, and the story was for a flash fiction English Literature homework assignment, for stories of 500 words or fewer. Essentially, this is how I saw the world, ten years from now, thirty years ago…
FRANKIE SAYS RELAX
The time was 23.59, as it had been for eight years since it was moved one minute further towards Doomsday. After Trump, the former USA was split roughly between the new Pacific United States and the Democratic Republic of America. In 2020, the DRA elected its first president, Clinton. In 2024, she was replaced by Obama, now heading for a certain second term.
The left wing media taunted the right, pointing out how much more evolved they had become, first under Clinton, and latterly Obama, who would have been the former USA’s first female and black female presidents respectively. They accused the right of fake news and subliminal advertising, and mocked them for their conservatism, concentrating resources on military defence, where the DRA had introduced a Universal Basic Income and budgets were concentrated on education, exploration and discovery.
Sebastian Lem stared at the flickering screen in front of him, as the F.R.A.N.K.I.E computer completed its calculations. It was ten years ago that Lem had been sifting through terabytes of data and found the telltale blip that was to signal the outset of a search for his Holy Grail: First contact with an extraterrestrial intelligent race. Two tribes could change.
Further analysis of the signal revealed patterns that almost certainly confirmed it as having an artificial source, and the SETI community grew excited.
Lem travelled Europe and the Americas consulting with mathematicians and astronomers from the Independent Collective, a loosely-formed, resource-sharing group of SETI scientists, operating outside of the corporate constraints of the mainstream scientific community, for the advancement of the sciences for the benefit of all.
The financial rewards were poor compared to the conformist scientific community, and ad-free accommodation scant. But the Indies’ co-operative nature afforded him free berth with his peers whilst he travelled, and his hut looked out onto the real world, only slightly blighted by the McDonald’s logo, occupying its three-month tenure on the surface of the moon as it was beamed from Earth.
Lem’s screen blinked and displayed an image, blurred and indecipherable. He zoomed out and it began to become clearer. As he scrolled upwards and zoomed outwards, a word manifested at the top of the image: ‘Trust’ in large, red letters.
Further and further he zoomed out and eventually the whole image was contained within the screen:
“Trust Trump again.”
© Steve Laker, 1985 and 2017.
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