Hi everyone it's been a little while but I've been busy with work and such. I sent the three short stories off and two are now on the short list for publication, and you read them here first. Anyway The third was sent back with a request for a re-write. I thought about it and I decided to give it a go. This is what I came up, with let me know which version you like better. The original, or the re-write. Oh it even has a new title as "Why" didn't seen to work anymore sorry Hayley. So here is "Long Haul."
Long Haul
By Kev Webb 2010 ©
Edited By Penny Springthorpe
We haul liquid diamonds from the gas giants in our solar system. It sounds glamorous, but living it is a different story. It’s tough waking up after each long sleep and remembering how far we are from home.
Every time I look at my watch I wonder what she’s doing now. I think about her, lying there in that king-sized bed. On more than one occasion she has sent me pictures via the ship’s mail system. In the shots, all I can see is one long, beautiful leg stretched out and resting on the bedclothes. How many times have I run my rough calloused hands over that leg? I always feel as though I’m touching one of the things in life I know I shouldn’t, even though I’m allowed to. With the touch come the soft croons and the softer touch of her lips on my ear as she whispers for me to be bolder with my caresses. Nothing has ever been this beautiful, or sensual.
My heart jumps as a spike of adrenalin rips into it with sudden impact; the touch of her fingertips forces me to catch my breath. My body quivers with anticipation as, in my mind, her breath caresses the nape of my neck. I don’t want these thoughts to ever end. The simple joy of a soft touch … Just the suggestion of tasting the forbidden fruit is enough. I don’t have to actually bite into it to taste the nectar; I taste it every time I close my eyes and think of her. It leaves its bitter sweetness on my lips; it leaves it there for me to taste and to savour.
Why do I deserve this wanton desire? Why is it directed at me? Why does she look at me in a way that no one ever has before? The kiss — the soft touch of her lips against mine, the heightened excitement of us both as our body heat rises in time with the urgency of our kisses. She’s got me again.
I can’t resist her; I want to be a part of her. I want to feel the silky velvet of her passion as she rises to meet me. The excitement in her low sighing moan weaves its magic as we work together to become one. I feel my heart hammering in my chest as she wraps her arms around me and pulls herself even closer. Her eyes close as she softly bites her bottom lip.
Excitement surges from her as a rapturous exaltation of breath; her eyes open and dilated pupils constrict as the light forces them to pinholes. She smiles as desire turns to shameless lust. It’s time – time to put it into overdrive, time to please her.
Oh God when will this end? When will I be able to go home to some semblance of normality?
They told us the technology was here to help. They assured us it was safe. Everything will be fine, they told us. Numerous studies into the effects of extended periods of hyper sleep dictated that a program had to be devised for the mental well-being and stability of the crew. Our minds needed constant stimulation or they would shut down. The company had lost dozens of employees over the years to hyper sleep sickness. They incorporated the program into the hyper sleep mode to keep us stimulated and to ensure that none of the crew went crazy from loneliness. Even though our bodies are in hyper sleep, our minds are still active.
The more cynical crew members believe it’s a company conspiracy designed to keep us in the job, and come to think of it, in the five years I’ve been doing this run no one has quit.
Empathic neurons … artificial empathic neurons that connect directly to our brains. Because the artificial neurons are empathic, they adjust completely to our genetic make-up. They are locked to our code and are completely sympathetic to our personalities, meaning that each person that is subjected to it gets the companion to match his or her needs and wants.
That’s all well and good, but where does that leave us all now? We can’t live without it. None of the other crew – not one! – has a family to go home to.
Through their studies , the company found out that sexual stimulation is the best way to keep the brain in perfect working order. Each crew member is asked to pick a virtual partner when he or she signs up.
Virtual … Interactive … Extension of … Empathic … Neurons.
VIXEN.
The virtual partners may look different but they are all the same, just ones and zeros creating the same pleasing algorithm to sooth us all. They said Vixen would be our saviour, but instead it’s our captor and we’re willing prisoners of its whims. They never told us about the addiction.
We all took this job because of the big money on offer, and Vixen, well, that was a bonus. It was comforting at first to have someone there for the long journey; we spend almost two years – ninety-nine percent of our time – in hyper sleep. So like lambs to the slaughter we go into our ‘coffins’ for extended periods of slumber. We can’t wait to have our neurons pumped full of Vixen. The point is, if we go we lose the thing that has become the most precious to us all. Vixen is always there, always eager to please. Vixen never says no to anything.
Will I ever be free to think of anyone else?
I wonder what she’s doing now.
