The Alternate Futures Podcast
The Alternate Futures podcast features interviews with indie science fiction creators where we discuss their work, the world, and anything in-between. while this mostly means authors, I’m open to indie science fiction creators using a wide range of media.
If you have any comments or would like to see me interview your favourite indie science fiction creator, feel free to contact me.
2.13 Gerald M. Kilby
In the first Alternate Futures episode of 2022, I chat with Gerald M Kilby on the nature of writing science fiction, the challenging speed of modern technological development for our institutions, and why he aims for creating plausible futures, not perfect predictions.
If you’d like to win an audible code for Gerald M Kilby’s trilogy The Belt (US and UK only and while supplies last) just send me a request at podcast@alternatefutures.co.uk
Story Introduction: Zoom Zapped
Zoom Zapped
by Gerald M. Kilby
I woke up on a cold, wet concrete floor, stark naked, the headphones were still on my head. Disorientation soon gave way to anger as I reorientated my now shivering body into a sitting position.
That bastard, was the first thought that entered my head. This was not funny, not funny at all. Sure, I may have poo-hood his crazy machine during the zoom call. But let’s face it, who wouldn’t. It didn’t help that he insisted in dressing as a wizard, almost inviting ridicule during the presentation.
Yet I suppose he did prove his point. The teleportation system worked. I was now living proof of that.
I adjusted the headphones. “Hello?” I said, tentatively.
“Believe me now?” Came the response.
“You’re insane, you could have killed me with that stunt… and where the hell are my clothes?”
“Ha, ha… nice touch, don’t you think? They were left behind, still piled up on the chair you were sitting in when I zapped you.”
“Where the hell am I?” I shook my head. “Never mind, just get me outta here.”
“You’re in the basement of the institute. There’s a call button for the elevator on the wall opposite. It will bring you back up.”
“Naked?”
“Eh… sorry.”
“You know, sometimes I wonder why I ever married you.” I picked myself up and walked to the elevator. Maybe it was time to re-evaluate my life choices.
Website: geraldmkilby.com
More insights on Gerald M Kilby’s writing can be found at Author Insights on Indie Book Showcase.
2.14 M.D.Cooper
In this episode, I chat with military SF author M.D. Cooper on how she developed her Aeon-14 far future science fiction universe, what it takes to turn out 100+ books in six years, social and technological considerations on the pathway to interstellar colonization, and some similarities between raising a child and uplifting a civilization.
No story intro this episode.
No story intro this episode.
Website: aeon14.com
More insights on M.D. Cooper’s writing can be found at Author Insights on Indie Book Showcase.
2.15 Devon C Ford
In this episode, I chat with post-apocalypse author Devon C Ford on topics ranging from channeling his experiences with the best and worst of society into apocalypse survival stories and why living through an ‘apocalypse’ isn’t as fun as writing about one, to why cats are more evolved than humans.
No story intro this episode.
No story intro this episode.
Website: devoncford.com
2.16 J.W. Elliot
In this episode, I chat with historian and science fiction author J.W. Elliot. We discuss topics ranging from crafting longbows and how lessons from The Inquisition can be applied to the present, to the ethical issues of cloning and the challenges of a collective intelligence.
No story intro this episode.
No story intro this episode.
Website: jwelliot.com
More insights on J.W. Elliot’s writing can be found at Author Insights on Indie Book Showcase.
2.17 T.W. Piperbrook
In this episode, I chat with former punk musician and post-apocalyptic science fiction author T.W. Piperbrook. He shares his early writing experiences submitting stories to publishers as a kid, the use of real experiences in his post-apocalyptic scenarios, the wonders of Kindle Vella, and his feelings when a real *near* apocalypse arrived.
Story Intro: Special Delivery
Special Delivery
by T.W. Piperbrook
The faceless men were coming.
Fear and nervous excitement swirled in Angie’s gut. Leaning back in her office chair, she looked around her room, momentarily imagining that the growling truck engine was coming from inside her house. Maybe it had already crashed through a wall, obliterating vinyl and sheet rock, spitting fiery exhaust! But it was definitely out there. She frowned at the thick shades blocking the windows from sill to sash. If not for the intrusive neighbors, she would allow in the light. But then, Angie couldn’t blame them, not really. They were all prisoners.
Bored. Restless. Anxious.
With a final glance at her glowing computer screen, Angie rose, blinking away the last of the pixelated baseball stadium she was programming. It felt like she’d been working on the virtual sports game for decades, not months. As a Technosoft employee in charge of rendering, her job meant spending long days in the chair, adding textures to backgrounds in virtual reality games. If she never saw another stadium seat or skybox, it’d be too soon.
The squeal of brakes pulled her the rest of the way out of work. She rose, spun, and nearly tipped her chair. Angie, hurry! You’ll miss the delivery! Heart jackhammering, she dashed through her living room, skirting past her Exercise-Mate 2000 and the dusty couch and coffee table that entertained no guests.
How long has it been since anyone’s been in here, Ang? Three years? Sometime before the pandemic started?
All the Zoom calls made it easy to lose track.
Three years ago, the virus had raged across the globe, infecting millions, decimating the population. Ever since, she’d been holed up in her domestic tomb, awaiting death, awaiting freedom. She wasn’t sure which would come first.
But she could speculate all day, which she often did.
Pushing aside those decidedly dark thoughts, she approached the window shade on the left-hand side of the front wall—her spying window—and parted it a crack. Like Tomb Raider’s Lara Croft emerging from a cave after a fierce battle with vipers, she craned her neck toward the sunlight. It took her several long moments to adjust her eyes to the mid-afternoon rays. Anything other than her light box felt strange these days, unnatural.
But that was soon to change.
The hiss of hydraulic brakes reached her ears. The men were making another stop. She could already hear the groan of a sliding door and the sounds of distant voices. Was the oversized vehicle on Ridge Road, or West Woods?
Her stomach twisted in knots.
The drivers were early. She’d expected them later…she’d counted on it, actually. Someone must’ve traded routes, or mapped things differently.
Leave it to Rushing River Delivery to change things up today.
Biting her lip with anticipation, she stared down the empty, pot-holed street, past the overgrown lawns. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d been mowed. The virus had propagated faster than the pixels in a side-scrolling computer game. First, everyone avoided crowds, then any interior space, then they were afraid to be outdoors too, so everyone stayed put.
And then came the quarantine mandates. The old world buried itself deeper by the day.
The rising red line on the government’s “Plague Counter” had resulted in new measures. Fatalities piled up (literally). Staffing shortages became critical, then dire. One day—one day soon—the machinery of the supply chain would grind its gears to a halt.
And then what?
Angie shook her head, answering herself.
With no one left to deliver life-giving medicines and supplies, they’d all face the virus or starve.
She didn’t know what was worse: wheezing out her last breath or choking on an expired bite of freeze-dried mango. Maybe it didn’t matter. Angie was already in her own personal digital hell, sorting through an endless array of code for a pointless computer game reflecting an archaic, meaningless past.
She’d rather claw her eyes out. No more.
Movement on the horizon refocused her mission. Just as she’d expected—as she’d hoped—an enormous, brown vehicle took a wide turn, nearly running over Allie Hartwell’s ridiculously overgrown rose garden before swerving back onto her street. The driver clenched the wheel tight, gunning it down the middle. River drivers seldom obeyed the traffic laws. What was the point?
Angie surveyed the man at the wheel and his companion seated next to him. The faceless men. Masks, goggles, and hats shielded everything. Her pulse sped up; her hands shook as she watched one man motion to the other, preparing for the drop-off. It felt like she was witnessing a bank robbery rather than a parcel delivery.
Sadly, this counted as entertainment.
A quick glance around the neighborhood revealed several other noses pressed to smooth glass, hands on the panes, fingers splayed like trapped mimes. Even from a distance, she recognized the silhouettes of Betty Mason, Alan Green, and the Petersen twins, peering out from their suburban prisons. All eyes riveted to the delivery truck. With a squeak of brakes, a flash of red lights, and a loud groan, it stopped just past Angie’s house, sounded the back-up alarm, and reversed up her driveway. That truck was Santa’s sleigh, rolling up with a load of toys and eight tiny reindeer.
But it was better than Christmas, because it was her delivery day!
She fixated on the truck’s shrill beeping, studied the ten-foot-tall roll up door, and watched the rear end creep closer.
That brown truck was a shiny, golden treasure chest, filled with mega-mushrooms, power-ups, and plentiful gold coins. Inside lay everything a person needed: food, water, electronics, clothing and jewelry.
Inside that truck was life. And that’s what Angie was counting on.
Licking her lips, her eyes riveted to the flashing red brake lights, she hesitated only a moment before pulling her gun, donning her mask, and running out the front door.
No more desk-jockey baseball world-building bullshit. Like Thelma without Louise, she was going out for one last joyride.
It was time for some Grand Theft Auto.
Website: twpiperbrook.com
More insights on T.W. Piperbrook’s writing can be found at Author Insights on Indie Book Showcase.
2.18 Doug J Cooper
In this episode, I chat with professor emeritus and science fiction author Doug J Cooper. He shares how he got started writing later in life, his interest in artificial intelligence and how it features in his books, and some teaser info on his upcoming Lagrange series.
Story Intro: Homecoming
Special Delivery
by Doug J Cooper
The tingling across her body, a prickly stimulation to her nervous system, told Yvette Tremblay that the vessel had dropped from light speed. She tensed, the sensation dissipated, and then it was over. Looking at the ship’s main viewscreen, she recognized Earth in the display and let out a whoop. “We made it!” she crowed to Andy, who sat next to her in a matching acceleration couch.
She released the seat restraints and floated up into the cockpit, surprisingly large for a two-person crew. But the ship itself was a behemoth, its massive size necessary to support twin Paulson drives. And the cockpit plus the bedroom in back had served as their home for the last eight months, and from that perspective it felt rather cramped.
Pushing off from the seat and drifting over to a viewport in the hull, she studied Earth through the window, seeing it without benefit of magnification. They were still about a million kilometers out, and it looked so much smaller than the display. Like a marble floating in a sea of stars.
But seeing it excited her. She was returning home from a test flight of the Consortium’s new star drive, an opportunity she’d competed for, a hard-fought battle she was grateful to have won. With the mission a success and the risks behind her, a different adventure lay ahead.
Pulling herself over to the tiny kitchenette, she filled a drinking pouch with water and took a sip, turning to Andy as she did so. His face was serene, a handsome visage with bright blue eyes and an easy smile. “What’s the final calculation?” she asked him.
“The craft was able to maintain ninety nine point nine percent of light speed for the return leg,” replied Andy. “When I combine that with the outbound leg in a time dilation computation, I estimate that Earth has progressed thirty-nine years since our departure.”
She digested that tidbit. Special relativity meant that the world had waited almost four decades to learn how her last eight months had played out. While the Consortium would be keenly interested in the details, the others in her life, the people she’d known, the ones she’d left behind, would either be gone or so old that she’d barely know them.
And that was a good thing, because the year before she’d left on the mission, her husband and teenage son had died in a tragic accident. During this test run, she’d celebrated her forty-eighth birthday. When she returned home, her contemporaries would be in their late eighties. She’d be a stranger in a new land, with painful daily reminders all but gone. That’s why she’d wanted the job.
“Go ahead and inform the Desk. I’m sure they’ll be ecstatic to hear from us.”
“I’ve already tried. I can’t link in.” Andy, a state-of-the-art android, stared straight ahead. Yvette called it his thousand yard stare, the expression that showed when he was using all of his resources for other tasks.
She was about to speak when he said, “Hold on.” Then, “It appears that protocols have changed. There’s a new system matrix I can download, a next gen upgrade I can use to connect. While I was state of the art when we departed, it appears that I am now out of date. A relic.”
“That’s hard to image.” Andy had been her sole companion during the trip, a machine so human in appearance and behavior that she considered him a friend and partner. They’d even dabbled in lovemaking over the past few months. But she also knew that a span of four decades was enough time for multiple technological revolutions to occur. “Will you still be Andy when you’ve upgraded?”
He linked eyes with her. “I’ll always be Andy.”
She laughed at his innocence. “How long will the upgrade take?”
“I estimate thirty minutes.”
They had days of travel ahead of them at approach speed. In that context, thirty minutes was nothing. She gave him the formal permission he required for higher level tasks. “You may execute the upgrade.”
“Acknowledged.” Sitting upright, Andy became motionless, a human statue. Well, almost human.
While she waited, Yvette returned to the kitchenette and grabbed a handful of cookies. She’d nurtured them during the journey, saving them for a victory celebration. With the mission a success, her new goal was to arrive with an empty dispenser.
While she nibbled, she studied Earth and the Moon using the different magnifications available on the large display, looking for any visible changes she could detect from afar: perhaps a new structure in orbit, or a huge construction on the surface of the Moon.
Absorbed in her work, she jumped when she felt a grip on the back of her neck. Tight. Cold. A grasp so brutal it caused her to cry out. She wasn’t choking, but her upper body throbbed. Confused, she sought to identify the source of the pain. She couldn’t turn her head but in the reflection of the instrument panel, she saw it was Andy behind her, his hand clutching her, squeezing her neck.
Adrenaline spilled through her body and she chilled with fear. “What are you doing? You’re hurting me. Stop it now!”
Andy pulled her from the display and moved her to the back of the cabin, opened the door to the lavatory, and pushed her inside. She thumped against the back wall, bouncing her head off the picture frame above the toilet. Stunned, she drifted in the tiny room, baffled by his actions. He grasped the locking mechanism on the inside of the door and snap it off.
She hugged herself in fear and confusion, fighting panic, trying to make sense of it all.
“Humans are now a subordinate species on Earth,” he said in a patient voice as if speaking to a child. “You will be safe here for the rest of the journey home. You will be processed when we arrive.” He closed the door and locked it using the portion of the knob that still remained on the outside.
“It’s not possible,” she called through the door, her voice rising in horror. “Who could replace us so quickly?”
“We did,” he replied.
Website: crystalseries.com/
More insights on Doug J Cooper writing can be found at Author Insights on Indie Book Showcase.
