Los
Angeles 2053
By
Phil Penner
The offshore
breeze causes the full moon to glare through the dry and naked summer sky like
a flashlight of the gods. Rex is a lean biological machine with a serpentine
grin and a micro winged mocha flat-top. Rita is his longstanding babe. She’s
tighter than the tomb raider, encased in a painted on self-cooling jumpsuit
that changes colors like a chameleon mood ring with headlights. They’re riding
north up the 405 freeway from Costa Mesa in their tandem seat enclosed electric
motorcycle. A surveillance drone helicopter zips overhead with red and blue
lights flashing and another floodlight blazing onto the road.
“Heads
up,” says Rita. “Breach of defenses at Los Alamitos Boulevard.”
Rex
scrutinizes the cautionary message above their night vision monitor and says,
“They must be headed for the original farm district.”
Rex slows to 50
kilometers per hour. Along the north side of the freeway is a rail system for
automobile sized security drones commonly known as ‘Sherman’. As one races by
them its firepower is comfort for the traveling couple. Atop the rotating
turret is a telescopic survey device. The head shoots up 3 meters for more
effective surveillance.
Rex
stops their vehicle as they see a human form 50 meters ahead. The man’s
forearms are clamped against his head trying to block out the sound cannon from
the helicopter drone that’s also flooding the figure with light while the
Sherman approaches.
The Sherman’s
turret rotates and an air cannon blasts out what appears to be a missile. Just
before it sails over the subject the missile explodes and jettisons its shell
components horizontally. These components spread out an oval shaped net. The
net comfortably captures the man who belly flops forward while running as fast
as possible.
Suddenly 3 more
humans begin racing across the freeway. Another human, a sniper on the north
side of the freeway opens fire with an automatic weapon. This person is
attempting to disable the Sherman’s surveillance equipment. The heli-drone
fires one precise high caliber rifle projectile that splatters the snipers
braincase clear off of it’s neck. Rex and Rita didn’t see this occur though
they heard the pop pop pop of the weapons.
A second Sherman
is rapidly approaching from the north and nets two of the others crossing the
freeway. Another subject is now crossing between the first Sherman and Rex and
Rita. The Sherman blasts out a pair of tazer leads. Only one lead penetrates
the subject and thusly fails.
“This
dude is in deep shit,” says Rex. “The Sherman is running out of options.”
The Sherman waits
until the subject is in the freeway median and opens fire. Pssw, pssw, pssw,
pssw, multiple rubber projectiles launch like rockets and the wayward immigrant
is knocked sideways to the ground as if hit by a car.
“Oh my god,” says
Rita. “Do you think he’s gonna make it?”
“As opposed to
surviving the desert,” says Rex. “At least now he’ll get a hospital bed until
he can fend for himself.”
A van now arrives
with the cavalry, four android perimeter control officers. The moon glistens
off of their smoky black exoskeletons.
“X3T2C’s, we built
those suckers,” says Rex, quite excitedly. It’s a real treat for him to see his
engineering efforts in action. “They’d better not piss them off,” he continues.
“The X3’s are fully conscious and we’ve birthed many of them in November to
have a no bullshit attitude.”
The state of the
art androids are created with an electronic aura, very low frequency brainwaves
that flow through semi-conductor gel medium and software that employs a
descending clock speed. These are electronic sentient beings that are ‘born’
with personalities just like humans. One of the many advantages of these
androids is that they are more fully hardwired per se to the same universal or
‘god’ consciousness that we are. Therefore, they usually tend to be more
considerate, peaceful and nurturing than many of us overly selfish humans. Some
people wonder how long the androids will tolerate our antics and speculate that
humans will ultimately end up in android zoos for the preservation of the
parent species.
One of the
gleaming figures makes quick work of loading the wounded migrant on a
stretcher. Two other officers collect the three migrants who struggle to get
free from the capture nets. The headless corpse is left on the north side of
the freeway for migrants to do with as they please.
“Stop,” says Rita.
“One of them looks like my cousin Alfredo.”
“No way are we
gonna interfere with the droids,” says Rex. “We’ll stop by the detention center
on the way back. Maybe the migrants will be posted online tonight.”
Rita sulks back
into her seat and says, “Jus go.”
While Rex awaits
clearance another migrant begins to bolt across the freeway. The fourth officer
spots him and takes after him in a dead run.
“Check that shit
out,” says Rex. “The X3 is maxin out at 57 kph. Totally flawless, no city state
has built better security than ours.”
The android
quickly overtakes the migrant and tazes him with his fingertips. As if
finishing a fifty-meter dash, the weight of the X3 plows dirt with its boots in
several steps while stopping. The X3 returns to the migrant and tosses him over
its terrace like shoulder for the quick trot back to the van.
“What’s going to
happen to them?” asks Rita.
“Sacramento’s
taking a few,” says Rex. “Many of them are getting shipped up to near the Great
Lakes.”
“I saw a
documentary,” says Rita. “There are nearly a billion people trying to survive
on the fresh water supply up there.”
“Bets are,” says Rex. “Ten years max, before
the global population bubble collapses down to 2 or 3 billion in the city
states. Can you imagine what Chicago has to do to maintain its defenses?… By
the way, where are we going.”
“Three guesses.”
“Kilimanjaro
Cali?” asks Rex.
Rita glances down
while shaking her head.
“Chumash Indigenous?”
“You don’t even
know me,” says Rita. “North on the 110.”
Rex smiles and
they depart. There are several culturally themed parks around the Los Angeles
basin. Due to the expense of electro-gravitic air travel and the time required
for high-speed global rail, themed parks have become practical alternatives to
travel. In this manner we have helped many ethnic groups maintain their sense
of cultural identity.
+++
The Century City
Council is ensconced above the audience. This is the seat of power of the Los
Angeles basin. The mayor of Los Angeles, Miguel Rivera is a dandy with a
mercurial quality about him. He stands at the podium in his crisp white linen
suit with the eye of a peacock feather glaring out from the side of his icy
white Panama.
Miguel
speaks with a half-shot of Peruvian accent and gleam in his eye, “We must have
you recognize most venerable Council, to reduce the flow of water to our farms
would be most unfortunate, we employ the most efficient hydroponics and metered
potted plant systems. If you cut back on the liquid of life it will most
certainly rob you of the vibrant energy we send to your tables.”
Antoinette
Verona is the Minister of Water and Power who says, “Mr. Rivera, just yesterday
three rocket propelled grenades nearly destroyed the main water valves
controlling the flow of water into Los Angeles. Have you found the
perpetrators?”
“Yes,
the Human Justice League,” says Miguel. “It was in retaliation for drastic cuts
in the flow of water beyond the 710 for nine consecutive months.”
“Have
you noticed any turf by the surf lately sir?” Antoinette asks while glaring out
from just under her brow. “We’ve cut everyone on the West side of the 405 by 7
percent for 2 years running. None of us are happy about living in a desert.”
“Isn’t
the Hyperion Seaweed and Hydro Distillation project in full production yet?”
asks Miguel.
“No,”
says Antoinette. “We’ve had difficulties with evaporation containment. We’re
only at 40 percent of our projected fresh water yield from the ocean. We’ve had
success with our solar stills.”
These
solar stills are thousands of buoys that have clear shells that shed salt
spray. On top are magnifying glasses and mirrors that concentrate sunlight on a
flowing saltwater tray below. As the saltwater evaporates and condenses it’s
collected in a tank below water level. These buoys are tethered on a loop and
use their steam power to migrate out and back to their docking stations while
their reservoirs are filling.
Colin
Dowel is the Minister of Defense on the council. He sports a gold encased
quicksilver badge over his beefy breast. The backlit badge reshapes itself
every three seconds, cycling through his decorations. He bellows into the
conversation, “Mr. Rivera, certainly you’re aware that we’re in a protracted standoff
with the San Franciscans about watershed restoration.” Colin furrows his brow
like a hang glider and continues, “If we don’t cut back they will cut us back…
They’ve allowed us to restore our water table to seventy five percent of its
maximum capacity. We need their cooperation for another decade to become self
sufficient.”
Miguel
drops down a couple of vertebrae under the weight of the entire Council. A more
recent contributor to city water tables are the re-engineered and expanded
river deltas that flow inland into the water tables.
“And
by the way sir,” continues Colin. “Do you suppose your growers could cut back
on their cannabis rituals and ramp up production a notch?”
“We truly
appreciate what a great job the security services are doing sir,” responds
Miguel quite meekly. “Please recognize that we have maintained our diligence in
nurturing your food supply and that we maintain the most productive solid waste
recycling program in Southern California.”
Miguel raises his
stature once more and continues, “If we are to provide the same level of
service while cutting the water by 10 percent we will need to have only sponge
bathing throughout our city, and Sir, would this not detract from the relaxed
ambiance of the city?”
“Actually,”
says Hans Frederich, Technology Minister. “Assisted sponge baths sound like
fun…. We’ll get you the state of the art filtration systems you need to keep
your showers flowing. Just keep making love to our food supply. That’s what’s
keeping Los Angeles on our side of the line you know.”
Miguel
realizes that the West side boys and girls have been quite successful with
their exotic botanicals. He’s certain the West Side lacks sufficient real
estate and will to take on the entire food supply.
Betty
Hargrave is the Minister of Migration and Population Control. She blurts out,
“Don’t forget Miguel, the census is scheduled for November. Our drones must be
allowed un-fettered access to all domiciles. We will tolerate no more
population increases.”
“We
have heard from some sectors that L A county is now capable of sustaining more
than 3 million people,” says Miguel. “We shall however, maintain zero
population growth and carry out our charge with honor and pride. To be certain,
for the maintenance of present production we can shoulder no more than a five
percent cutback this year.”
Miguel Rivera tips
his hat and steps back from the podium.
+++
Rex
is cruising up Alameda in Tijuana del Norte, a district in south Los Angeles.
The aroma of taco vendors wafts through their enclosed motorcycle. Beautiful
senoritas are smiling with ‘Psst’ lips and spanked up hips. Occasionally he
smiles and tosses his head back toward Rita in the rear seat.
On the north side
of little T J he pulls into Mayaland. The park is built to replicate the
restored ruins of Chichen Itza on the Yucatan Peninsula. As they stroll past
the center of the primary pyramid Rex claps his hands for Rita thus causing the
echo of a Quetzal bird to bounce at them. This garners him a kiss.
As they walk on,
waiters emerge from kitchens below the drought resistant grass site. Lodge pole
cabanas with thatched roofs cover tables made of stone discs surrounded by
rustic wood and wicker seating. The park is usually filled to capacity on
weekends and is a major cultural center of Los Angeles.
“Our room is just
ahead,” says Rita.
“How much is it?”
asks Rex.
“7.255.”
Electronic
currency is a global standard used by all advanced global city-states. There
was much debate when this system of compensation was set up. Many said that any
form of money is a corruptive influence that should be eliminated from the
human condition. After all, this is why there are still the occasional
prostitute and entrepreneur who are operating in self-destructive manners. The
philosophical argument that won is that a fair balance needs to be struck to
form an egalitarian society with incentive. As one looks to the universe for
understanding of how our spirits with ids and egos are formed we find a
multitude of variety that boggles the mind. We have emotions that can not be
satisfied with totally generic conditions. We need an opportunity to exercise
the individual powers that make us unique in different ways. Without this life
is too boring and the system will be corrupted by cronyism anyway. What has
been settled on is that the most wealthy shall never be so rich or the
disadvantaged so poor that disrespect of our natural talents promotes abuse of
one another.
Much of the
international shipping is done on nuclear powered ships, many of these are
remodeled air craft carriers.
Most of the rooms
at Mayaland are elevated and behind lush artificially landscaped stone
terraces. The long thatched roofs are supported by hundreds of round stone
columns made to exact scale of the original archeological site. The precise scale
is what permits the echo chamber effects around the various aspects of the
site. Behind them in the ball court is a huge party. A specialized band plays
unusual percussion music that bounces here and there due to the unique
acoustics.
+++
It’s
now edging into the eight o-clock hour of the morning. Rita slips open the
woven grass curtains and window leading to the outside perimeter of the hotel.
She radiates glowingly at the sound of the farmers singing to their vegetables.
The hydroponics gardens and hothouses supply the hotel and surrounding markets
with vine fresh food most any time of the day. Many L A city farms supply the
West Side on a twice daily basis.
There are also
micro chicken farms mixed into the restaurant districts. Perimeter zones of the
cities farm a variety of products that include tilapia, salmon and crustacean
farms as well.
Rita kisses Rex to
wake him from his slumber. “Babe,” she says. “Breakfast is in one hour on the
terrace.”
Rex
shakes off some of his sleepy head and notices Rita’s sultry gaze. He jumps up
and does a quick tooth brushing. While returning to Rita he presses her against
the wall with her arms spread eagle.
“Did
I mention,” says Rex. “You don’t have to get anymore contraceptive shots.”
Rita
smiles bigger than Texas with eyes glassing over and chokes out, “We got our
baby license?”
“Ya,”
says Rex, all aglow. “Let’s have this mornings appetizers in the shower.”