#16 in Scifi as of 12.1.18
THE FICTION OF SCIENCE (My collection of Science fiction entries)
1. A MATTER OF FACT... When Death Looks Just Like You.
What happens when you know how you are going to die? Read the story of a Ayla, who befriended death...
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"Robertson, the President needs to see you in half an hour. Please report to his office now," the intercom buzzed.
I forced my unwilling feet to his chamber and knocked.
"Come in," the leader commanded.
I entered to find him in his high, black-leather chair, waiting for me, his fingertips touching. It was evident that he was in deep thought.
"Doctor, you know we have very less time. The nuclear missiles are already set at strategic locations, ready to fire at the press of a switch. It is targeting main cities like St Petersburg, Moscow and..."
"I know," I said, dropping the papers on the table, "I know you want spies to know what the Soviets are doing. I know you want to create humanoids and you need me to set a programming for them. Do you think I'm sitting idle? I'm working 24 by 7. It's different when you're completely a machine. But when you're not, and you want to implant metallic parts in a living human, you need to check for bio-compatibility and hypersensitivity anaphylaxis, body reactions and toxicity. On top of that there is finding a matter of choice. Titanium, the most useful element is sparse in present earth. In spite of everything, I'm trying."
I struggled to catch my breath after such a long speech.
He narrowed his eyes and bit his lips. Finally he sighed,"Fine. I can give you 72 hours maximum."
"Thank you," I muttered, strutting out of the room.
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I was walking down the streets, looking at the serene world around me. Little did they know that everything was going to be demolished in a few weeks.
Suddenly I saw a lady materialize out of a corner, deftly moving me. She was tall and thin, with lovely dark hair and blue eyes.
"Dr Robertson?" she extended her hands.
"Yes, but you..." I struggled to remember if I ever knew her.
"I'm Doctor Ivanovich, Katerina Ivanovich," she smiled as I shook her hand.
"You're Russian? " I asked pointedly, clutching the papers tightly to my chest.
"Does that bother you?" she asked calmly.
She was kind of weird, glowing and unearthly. Her presence surprisingly didn't feel like there was someone. But she was right before me, and I had touched her.
"No it doesn't. Excuse me. I need to go," I commented, trying to get away.
"Afraid of facing one of them, and helping in making weapons to destroy whole populations. You're such a coward," she chuckled.
"I'm not, and I don't know what you're talking about," I tried to feign innocence, even as my breathing sped up.
"If America has acquired weapons of destruction, isn't it quite plausible that Russia has it too? Russia won't tolerate American ego and a deadly nuclear war is an impending reality," she said in a matter-of-fact way.
