Truck

Roberta Crawford Morency (2095)

 

Excerpt from Roberta Crawford Morency's scifi, 2095:

 

An international audience is viewing life in the past. The highly evolved population is scanning us, the UNevolved.

     "Many lost their lives in transportation accidents in the air, on the rails, on the ground, on the water," continued the narrator. The scene changed to a marching army of uniformed soldiers. "One of the most egregious causes of death occurred when an entire nation would spend its resources and its young people to find excuses to battle another nation. They understood how to use deception to persuade the young that killing other humans was a brave and worthwhile way of life."

     "Killing people was worthwhile?" said George's mother. She shook her head. "No."

     The entire audience shook heads in non comprehension. The scene merged into a veterans hospital. Some of the men and women were attempting to walk with crutches. Some sat in wheel chairs. Some were missing body parts or had seriously suffered severe affliction that left them blind or mentally ill.

     Isabelle turned to George. "Isn't it unbelievable? The injured beings you see there are those people's children. They sent their children out to kill. At the same time many of the youngsters themselves were killed." Those scenes were the most difficult of all for the watchers to understand. How hard had it been to persuade young people to go to another country and start killing?

     Marty turned to Todd. "If a leader came to you and said, 'You have to go out and kill some people,' what would you say?"

     Todd laughed. "I'd say if you have to have people killed, you go kill them yourself."

     Marty sat in a swing in his yard, trying to decide what to do. Hw swung and pondered what might be a good job, following up his servicing of the feeding stations. Something a little more interesting, something no one else was doing. He watched Calvin, his robot, putting the finishing touches to the siding of his house. Those cute robots are a little bit like people. He yelled, "Hi, Calvin."

     The robot turned and said in a tinny voice, "How are you?"

      "Good, thanks." Marty laughed. "Gee. Couldn't he have a better voice? I'd give him a good voice." A light flashed on in Marty's brain. Hey. There's no robot to take care of feeding stations. Program a robot. What I could do I could learn programming. Marty's brain began whirling. He went inside for paper and pencil. My own robot. He was in his element working on an idea that was his own. He decided on a girl robot, Teresa. He saw no reason why Teresa could not be pretty, even beautiful. Who did he know who was good at programming? Pete. Marty knew everything that had to be done at a feeding station. Now to design Teresa. That he could do. And then to teach her. All right. Marty was on a roll. At his desk he began sketching the figure and the face. Plenty of dark luxurious curls. Wait. No good getting a hank caught in the machinery. He tapped his pencil on the desk. So, I'll give her a hat, tie up the hair. No floating scarfs. Teresa must be a neat buttoned up girl. All right. I can do this. He lost track of time.

     Pierre received a communication from Julien d'Amours requesting an interview. Was this the fortunate Julien asking for help? It was hard to believe. An affirmative answer was immediate. How in the world could Julien have a problem. The most fortunate of men in every way. He laid aside the book he had been reading. Pierre sat at his piano and played the tunes he had played with Isabelle. Then he told himself he should not be indulging like this.

     At last Julien arrived at Pierre's dwelling. He regarded the beautiful little house. Charming. Pierre waited at the gate. "Come in, my friend. Julien entered. "How would you prefer that we speak, here in the garden or would you rather go inside?"

     "So beautiful.  Your garden is delightful. I could tell you my sorrow here."

     Sorrow!  Is it possible? "Then let's sit here on the bench." 

     "Thank you for seeing me on short notice, Pierre. It's very kind of you." He paused. "Pierre, you heard my new song?"

     The one about Isabelle. "Yes, it's charming." A song hard to forget. Impossible for me.

     "I wrote it for my love. I have attempted to court this adorable girl. Well, she kept rejecting me. Then I wrote the song and I sang it to her - in public - I really thought she liked it."

     Pierre was shocked. His heart started thudding. "You have spoken to this woman?" Isabelle!

     "Yes. I went to London."

     London!

     Julien choked. "She told me she loves someone else."

     Pierre's heart  began racing. "Who did she say?"

     "I don't know." Julien's head drooped.

     Pierre put his hand on Julien's shoulder. "My friend, this is very hard. Love cannot be understood." He pressed Julien's shoulder. "But Julien, as you know there's no need for you to be without love. You know that, don't you?" It's my job to provide comfort for this man as much as I can. No matter how Julien's words impact on myself, the man has come to me for help.

     Julien nodded glumly. The sat in silence and listened to the gurgling water, the music of the beads. Pierre's mind was racing. Yes, that girl was certainly in love. Pierre felt his heart beating fast. It could be me. I must forget my own excitement and give comfort to this troubled man. Forget myself now and do this work.

     "Well, Julien, I must say this is a surprising problem you have brought to me." He gave Julien a kind look. "the world's women seem to be waiting for you to select one of them, and now you find yourself with an incredible no from one of them. Do you suppose that happens to be it, my friend? Could it be that you want her only because she's unatainable?" He observed Julien, looking for a clue.

     Julien tried to smile. "I don't know, Pierre. I was first struck by her beautiful eyes."

     God, yes, those superb eyes. "Eyes, yes." Pierre attempted to concentrate on Julien's problem. "Well, mon ami, you know we Frenchmen are aware that love cannot be explained. The French are famous for understanding the ways of love. Sometimes we suffer, but in the end there will be the right woman for us." They sat together quietly for some moments. "I wish I had more to offer." Pierre's words were sincere.

     He took her hand. "So tell me how is it going with you?"

     Isabelle remembered the emotional confusion of the past few days. She knew she was struggling with a problem. Everybody asked Pierre. How could she word it? "Well, Pierre, since you are right here, I suppose I could ask your advice, if it would not be imposing." Pierre helps everybody, and if anyone needs help at this moment, I believe it is myself.

     "Not at all. Ask away." Yes, I'll do anything to help this woman.

     "Well, you see, I have this friend. She has an emotional problem."

     "What is the problem?" This is going to one of those famous problems of a friend.

     "She's in love with a man."

     My poor Isabel. Can I just sit here, the guilty reason for her trouble? I swear I'm going to resolve this whole romance. Within a week. I promise myself. "Yes, I see. It usually involves romance. It's a love problem."

     "I suppose you get lots of those."

     "A fair number. Go ahead." One week. I promise.

     "Well, she's in love with this man, really in love, but he's not available to her. Then there's another man who loves her. She keeps wondering would it harm this other man if she accepts him."

     It hurt Pierre to know that he himself was the problem this time. His heart was pounding. What he had almost surely guessed was here being confirmed. It's my responsibility to do more than just give advice. I now must solve my own problem to be fair to this wonderful woman.

     Isabelle continued. "She wonders if it would be fair to the man who loves her and wonders if she could possibly learn to love him."

     "Look, Isabelle, the man would not be seriously harmed."

     "Oh," she said sadly.

     "It's not the man I'd worry about. It's, uh, your friend. It's her happiness that's at risk."

     Pierre stood. He looked at her a moment. I'll come again to her in one week. Then he murmured, "I'd better go. Au revoir."

 

Roberta Crawford Morency's career was in radio, television and newspapers. Doctors had mistreated her anemia by prescribing iron, which almost led to her death. Her life was saved by a new doctor, who diagnosed iron overload. She recovered health by donating a full unit of blood at the blood bank weekly for three years. Even though anemic, giving blood got rid of the excess iron. In 1980 she founded Iron Overload Diseases Assn, Inc, after researching the condition. She discovered that millions of American’s lives are shortened by iron oxidizing in storage sites, causing any and every deadly, expensive disease. Her other two books, praised as life-saving information, are The Iron Elephant, a nonfiction, and a novel, tick, tick, tick, which is also written as a screenplay. Her latest novel, the scifi, 2095, is currently available from Off the Bookshelf, 118-21 Queens Blvd., Suite 311, Forest Hills, NY 11375.