top of page
Image by Drew Beamer

Combined Prosperity


I’d thought Dad’s printing shop had closed down by the time Lacey was stored. But when I checked, my implant’s display for 2022-10-03 clearly showed her standing in front of the shop, with her final device in hand, moments before her consciousness transfer.

My implant is tremendously useful. 

Most people are surprised that I have opted out of permanent storage, and have chosen to stay with a “simple” implant. Yet I am satisfied: I can replay memories that my own mind would have muddled, and I can enjoy a level of mental agility that would have enchanted my younger self, without taking the final step of handing my soul over to the municipal mainframe.

Some day, even the implant won’t be enough to keep me alive. Others, including Dad, including Lacey (if I can really use those names for their current forms), will be able to access my memories as long as they want to, and imprint them upon their own psyche, even as I embrace oblivion. 

And who is to say which memory will outlast the others?



Terrans, apparently, took games very seriously. “I wonder,” mused the Colonial Governor, untangling her tentacles, “if we can teach them to settle disputes this way?” 


Her Chief Historian replied, “Already, sport is all that mitigates their ceaseless lust for war. Without games, they would destroy each other utterly.”


“Shall we encourage them, then, to play more games?” 


The Historian unsheathed her claws, as if about to share a delightful idea. “Were we to forbid sports entirely, their problems - or, should I say, ours - would soon be over.”


The Governor smiled, and showed her claws in return. 


“One way or another.”

bottom of page