Tag Archives: SciFi Short Story

Class Reunion

„… and what happens next? Believe it or not, the value of the lot tripled. Not increased some. Not doubled. Value of the lot full effing tripled. And me of course to sell, sell, sell. Faster than noon lightning strikes. And the wife to complain, the way effing wives do. Went on moaning about how we need a better house, easier to chill down. Little does she know…“

„Yeah, nothing but trouble with the ladies. Mine, I get her a new kitchen, best of the best appliances, no twenty years ago. And what happens when I finally reward myself with new wheels? I see it on your face, you’ve been there. That’s exactly what happened…“

„Wheels and wives, say no more! The speed of my SolV, honestly, it’s a shame. That’s the downside, with early adopting. You set the trend, the crowd follows where you lead. So far, so feelgood factor. But practically speaking, you end up with a beta version. A business district evac in my first gen SolV, that’s not for the faint hearted. No feelgood factor when you’re the one still trundling along the bridge amidst the monster waves while people with better powered cars sit smug in the storm bunker. But trust the effing wife to scream if I even so much as watch an advert. Totally doesn’t get the importance…“

They‘ve been at this for the first four dishes of a seven course meal. They sound like they‘ll keep it up until well after their second dessert.

A polite observer would describe them as black gentlemen of advanced age and corpulency. To Adebran, they’re Bragging Bruce and Toothy Todnam.

These two stayed true to their high school selves. Thirty years ago, they cast a slimmer shadow and looked less worn. But the current soundtrack is a pitch perfect replay of their youthful ways. 

Volume a notch above the polite, they’re banging on about their same old topics.

An improbable series of supposedly smashing conquests became a wife and wink-wink-hints at a mistress. The scooters were scaled up into SUVs. And there’s still an evil presence clutching the purse strings, unfairly denying the boys their toys.

Both used to mince their words more, when they were mad at dad, for going tight on the pocket money. The big parental commanded some respect, even at a distance. Whereas effing is as polite as it gets, around their wives and mistresses.

Adebran is shocked to feel his own brain coming up with an Aglaia-type thought. This corporate nuisance is haunting him even in this most private moment.

Big companies like the solar panel manufacturer where Adebran has spent his whole working life are forced to hire so called fairness advocates. Officially, this is to make sure there’s no discrimination of the more lightly skinned members of the workforce. In practice, fairness is perfectly established and the law only provides well connected kids like Aglaia with nice jobs.

In these enlightened times, even the whitest of white people have access to all careers. Provided they come with proper qualifications and up-to date reparations paperwork. And know how to behave in a corporate setting. And feel civil. You can’t have brutes around.

Adebran’s dad would have scoffed at the idea of hiring a white engineer. Anything above minimum wage service jobs for whites was anathema to him. Lack of trust.

Adebran’s granddad would have rolled his eyes in horror, mumbling his usual about kids having no idea of the efforts and hardship that got proper people in charge of global affairs.

But nowadays, white people are well integrated.

Adebran likes it that way.

Even a white president is no longer considered impossible. They’d have to change the law first, because none of them can prove none of their forebears was involved with colonial exploitation. But in a democracy, even such a change is within reach. In principle.

Not having much to do, in a phase of low hiring that hopefully won’t turn into a recession, the Aglaia person spends her days posting memos on the company website. Out of resentment against this waste of HR budget, and because he never gets much done in the hour after lunch anyway, Adebran has taken to read her stuff.

It’s even weirder than he had assumed. Aglaia is working herself into a state over something she calls patricorate. Or male dominance in corporate settings. Or business world sexism. According to her, ladies are the real victims of discrimination, more strongly affected than even the proverbial white boys with generations of exploitative ancestors to atone for.

Aglaia even pretends to prove her fantasies. As if the absence of female engineers on the payroll, as opposed to the presence of one Asio-Caucasian, was meaningful.

Girls don’t like maths and physics, they don’t do engineering degrees. How the hell would they qualify for such jobs?!

Not even Adebran’s oddity of a daughter would dream of a career in engineering.

Her aiming to go football pro isn’t much better, but as a progressive he won’t interfere. Not worth the trouble. The money offered by the Lions is surprisingly good, too.

The wife will make  a couple more scenes, but Adebran will grant the daughter permission.

Satisfied to have reached a decision that had been in the making for days, Adebran switches his attention back to Bragging Bruce and Toothy Todnam.

They’re still talking wheels, now discussing the latest in all-senses full body virtual racing equipment.

Finally a topic worthy of Adebran’s input!