A Fire in Their Eyes #163

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"I'm the Prince of Wales!" Crow shouted to them. "Jolly-O!"

 

Two of them took pictures reluctantly before the hatch to the transport closed on them. A yeoman showed Rebecca and Crow to worn leather seats of surprising comfort near the cockpit and demonstrated the use of the seat belts. Crow stretched his legs out to their full length.

 

"I guess when they transport tanks in these things, they can afford to give you more leg room than the commercial ones, huh?" Crow asked.

 

"You're happy for a kidnap victim." Rebecca muttered and stared out the window at the bustle of enlisted men fueling the planes and running through maintenance checklists.

 

"We weren't kidnapped." Crow said. "We just rated an escort is all." He grunted. "I thought you'd be happy. We don't have to kidnap Green Eyes now."

 

"No." Rebecca said. "If he needs kidnapped, we'll be three hundred thousand miles away, and I doubt our cell phones will work from the moon."

 

A hundred miles from Los Angeles, they could see a strip of metal sparkling in the sunlight above the smog layer, which roiled underneath the plane in a thick yellow stew. A ribbon divided the sky like a crack in the glass of the windows, disappearing into the smog below and into the distance above, a gentle curve steering it also off to the horizon. The sheer size and length defied description, at least in part because the magnitude made it impossible to actually bring the strand into focus. It seemed like it must just be a sliver of metal caught on the window, a hair dropped down over their eyes.

 

The engineering community had protested for years the chosen site of the space elevator. It had to be along the equator, they insisted. Putting it in Los Angeles defied all engineering logic. Of course, any suitable engineering site along the equator defied all political logic as far as the government was concerned. In time, it was hashed out that placing the site farther north made the problem more difficult, not impossible, at which point a societal raised eyebrow and a sigh by the engineering community got the job done for three times the price of an equatorial model.

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A place for the assorted ramblings and fiction of Steven Lloyd Wilson, but to be more specific:
  • Burning Violin: A weekly column, posted every Friday.
  • Singed Couplets: Shorter and more informal pieces put up semi-irregularly with highly unpredicatable frequency.
  • A Fire in Their Eyes: A science fiction novel about the rise of artificial intelligence in the near future. The rough equivalent of 2 print pages is published Mon, Tue, Wed, Thu each week.
  • Katorga: A science fiction novel crossing Heinlein with Solzhenitsyn. Available for purchase in either trade paperback or for the Kindle. If you buy it, I get to eat this week.

About this Entry

This page contains a single entry by Steven Lloyd Wilson published on January 18, 2010 6:00 AM.

A Fire in Their Eyes #162 was the previous entry in this blog.

A Fire in Their Eyes #164 is the next entry in this blog.

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