here, up here

by Markus Jay

He whispered to himself ‘up here the air might not be fresh but at least it`s clean and you don`t have to wear one of those damn breathing apparatus, looking like a skin diver. It`s one of the positives of being a EL [elites]. Not living with each day in constant fear like you do living a dangerous life of a FERMA [people living on earth]. Another positive with his life is only working for a few hours a day. Just a few hours spent pouring over reports sent by FERMA`S or attending meetings via sending a hologram of himself [so good now it feels as if you are there and those attending feel as if you are in the room with them] a marvel of modern technology. Leaving the rest of the day to you.

Benizine thought about how people said he would never amount to anything. Then he said to himself “I`m living up here amongst the stars in this spacecon[short for space condominium], it`s like living everyday on one of those cruise ships my parents and grandparents talked about, and they`re all living in hell down there”. He chuckled.

Benizine turned and looked around his apartment. A couple of soft peach coloured armchairs sat in the rooms centre. The chairs are the only visible colour in this all white room. In one corner sat an abstract sculpture atop a pedestal. The sculpture, made from what looks like marble and only standing about four feet high, along with the chairs are the only notable features in this room’s sterile environment.

Benizine faces the opposite wall and says in a loud clear voice to the room "screen..."

A wall panel slides to the right, revelling a large glass panel

Benizine walked towards then sat in one of the peach chairs as it automatically started to recline to his presence

"Enough" he said with authority. The chair stops reclining at once. Now sitting in his favourite position, he is totally comfy.

Benizine states in a forceful, demanding voice while he faces the rooms south facing wall, with its embedded large, rectangular glass screen. "on...today`s news"

The glass lights up to reveal a woman dressed all in blue. Her voice one of sternness says-“in braking news, simultaneously around the world the rebels set off a series of attacks on government institutions in retaliation of police attacks on protesters as they marched in freedom rallies held a fortnight ago. At this stage exact numbers of deaths can`t be verified; but official sources estimate that the world wide tally will be in the thousands.”

“The news always depressing. Let’s look for something to cheer me up!” He whispers to himself.

"Show me today’s agenda?" Benizine asks the screen.

At the bottom of the days agenda a bold headline-COMING SOON-sparking Benizines attention.

"Sahara come look at this. Next month a band is playing in the Nova theatre called The Spirit of Jam, they are playing the hits of the Nineties...I have a soft spot for that era. It was during the Nineties my mum and dad meet. It was a time when dad regularly rode a skateboard, a popular pastime with the kids back then. One day while skating with his mates, Mum, along with a few of her friends, went to hang where dad was skating. The two met, one thing led to another, and here I am"

Sahara coming from the apartment small galley style kitchen, entered the room where Benizine excited voice came from. You don`t need a large kitchen in a spacon as all the meals are served in the spacon restaurant or, if you prefer, delivered and served by a spacon`s, so lifelike, robot butlers.

With two cups of coffee in her hands her voice commands "Table up!"

A panel in the floor slides open and reveals a piece of rectangular smoky glass. Then, as it rises up, it takes the form of a coffee table. Stopping at the precise height Sahara places each cup on top of the tables in built coasters.

She turns to Benizine and says “You thinking of going?”

“I wouldn’t mind. These tunes will bring back happy memories” Benizine replies as he reclines in his chair, staring into the nothingness while his face beamed a ray of sunshine.