November 2025 Story

Coach

The present—

“How the hell does Jake do that? He seems to know what defense we’re calling every time. Disguised corner blitz, and they send the tight end to the spot vacated. Drop back in deep coverage just before the snap and they break a big gain with a quick, short pass over the middle to the running back.”

“When we saw what they’ve been doing to the other teams they played, I wondered if they were hacking into the headsets, so I had the IT folks look into that. They said there’s no way they could do that. The system is secure. I don’t think they’re stealing our signals. But I agree, they sure do make a lot of changes right at the line of scrimmage.”

“Then Jake must be a effing mindreader. From seven and ten to leading the Conference in one year.”

A year and a half ago—

Jake Bowzer, the offensive coordinator for the NFL Madison Mudhens, was worried as he walked outside the empty practice facility to a meeting with the general manager, Tom Tussle and his head coach, Bob Buffo. Yeah, seven and ten isn’t great, and we missed the playoffs, but we did better than last year’s five and twelve. I hope the new owner doesn’t want immediate results. I thought me and Bob agreed that it would take a few years to get to where we wanted to be.

He climbed the stairs and opened Tom’s office door and was shocked to see the team’s new owner, Ziggy Smart also there. Oh, oh, Jake thought, must be something big for Smart to be here. Am I gonna get canned? His armpits started to sweat and his palms got wet.

Ziegfeld Smart—who got into artificial intelligence at the start, and was still THE major player in the field. His net worth was a closely guarded secret, for he was a very private person, but from what could be gleaned from records, he was a more than enormously wealthy person. Given his nature and presumed lack of interest in sports, it came as a great surprise when it was announced that the new owner of a mediocre NFL franchise, the Madison Mudhens, was he. It’s said that he was given his unusual first name as a take off on an old Broadway show, the Ziegfeld Follies, by his father because he was the unplanned last child in his family.

Jake wiped his right hand on his pants as he stepped into the room to shake hands with the three men present.

Tom said, “Jake, I don’t think you’ve met Mr. Smart, our owner, before.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Smart, sir,” Jake said. “You must be a very busy man, so it’s a surprise and an honor to find you here.” Oh God, is he going to lower the boom?

“If you’re worried about why I’m here, let me put your mind at ease. I thought you made satisfactory progress with the team from last year to this,” Smart replied.

Jake felt a huge sense of relief, thinking—satisfactory progress—he’s okay with this year’s results.

“But of course we can’t just be satisfied with satisfactory,” Smart continued.

“Oh I fully agree,”Jake said. “Right Bob?” Buffo nodded.

“And that’s why I asked you to come to this meeting,” Tom Tussle said. “As you must be aware, Mr. Smart is THE leader in the field of Artificial Intelligence. He’s shared his ideas with Bob and me and now wants you to be included.”

‘To be included,’ Jake thought. Man this must be really something big. And I’ll be in on it too.

“But whatever we talk about and decide, you can never repeat. Not to anyone. Not ever! If you don’t think you can agree to that, then it’s best that you leave now. Take a minute to think about it and decide,” Tom continued.

To not even know what I’m agreeing to and I have to decide blind? What if it’s a criminal act? But Bob agreed and he’s the most straight up guy I know. Really honest, ethical. So if he’s in on this——? “Bob, you know what this is all about and agreed?” asked Jake.

“Yes,” Buffo replied.

Jake took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m in.”

“You can call me Ziggy too,” Smart began.

“Thank you sir—I mean Ziggy,” Jake said. Call him Ziggy too? Wow.

“You know that analytics in all sports is routine now,” Smart began. “It started with baseball and as owners and coaches saw that it gave the team using it a leg up, everyone began to copy. Football was no exception. What were the odds of a favorable outcome in going for it on fourth down at what yardage, which stage of the game, given the opponent, and so on. Follow?”

Jake nodded.

Tussle interjected, “Excuse me Ziggy, but one last check before you go further. Jake, if you sense where this may be headed, one last chance to opt out if you’re worried.”

“No, I’m still okay.” Opt out? This gotta be big. But what? Analytics? And Smart is an AI guy.

Smart continued, “In your case, as the Mudhens offensive coordinator, what if you knew what the defense would do before you called a play, 94.7 percent of the time?”

“It’d be like mind reading their defensive coordinator,” Jake said. 94.7 percent!? Pretty specific figure. Wow! Got to see where this goes!

As if Smart were a mind reader himself, he said, “The 94.7 figure is not something pulled out of thin air. It is real. Three years ago, out of curiosity and boredom, I looked into the quality of the number crunching and analytics that NFL teams use, and discovered it was fairly basic. And I thought, I bet I can do better. I began by looking at all sixteen teams in the conference the Mudhens were in—it was just a coincidence that it was the Mudhens conference. I set up a program, I called it Lombardi, to put every game, every situation in each game, and the plays that each defensive coordinator dialed up, into computers, along with the characteristics and records of each of each team’s defensive players. “

Holy shit, thought Jake, ‘Lombardi’, he is the AI god. Is this covered in the rules?

Smart continued, “I decided to start with the defensive side. And over the course of a year’s worth of data, each defensive coordinator’s tendencies emerged based on the situation, the look of the offense, and the personnel involved. And if there were changes in staff or personnel, that too was fed into the program. I tested it with real time games the following year, and that’s how the 94.7% figure was derived. Follow, Jake?”

“Thank you, Mr. Smart,” Jake replied, “No, you explain it very clearly. But how-ah-do the rules cover this?”

“They don’t, and that’s the beauty,” Smart said. “Then when I learned that the Mudhens might be up for sale I saw a chance to test Lombardi in the real world. The Mudhens were, before you and Bob came on of course, the bottom feeders of their division, and so their price was not astronomical. And if things didn’t work out, I could put them up for sale again and not take a huge loss.”

So we’re nothing more than a test of concept to him, thought Jake. A rich guy’s plaything. It was a deflating moment. He said nothing and waited.

Buffo said, “Jake, I hired you as my offensive coordinator, because Tom and I were impressed with your work as quarterback’s coach with the Waco Warthogs even though you were young. You’ve more than justified our decision. Now you’ll have a great chance to do an even better job.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jake replied. To be handed their playbook in each game. Not quite honest, but not covered by the rules. What if this gets out? And if we win, how much is from me and how much is due to Lombardi? “Yeah, I mean let’s do it! Is Chaz (the Mudhens’s defensive coordinator) in on this?”

“Not for now,” Tussle replied.

“So just the three of us,” Jake said. “And mum’s the word.”

“Yes,” said Smart.

“I’ve got a lot to think about and absorb. Thank you Mr. Smart—I mean Ziggy—for trusting me,” Jake said.

“And let’s get beyond ‘satisfactory’ this coming season,” Smart said.

“Absolutely!’ Jake said. With a little help from my friends or AI.

After Jake left, Tussle said, “He’s a good man, I’m glad he came on board. You won’t tell him about ‘Belichick’?

“No, but I’ll be comparing what plays Jake runs, with what my offensive program ‘Belichick’ suggests. As long as what he decides works well and we win, there’s no need to make him feel pressure or to worry him,” said Ziggy. “The players need to have a person they relate to calling the plays. And they like Jake. I don’t think they’re ready to have an AI as coach. But who knows—maybe someday.”

Yeah, Buffo thought, ‘someday’ AI on offense, AI on defense; so who’ll need any coaches at all and we’ll all be out of jobs.

July, 2025, Story

Set in the future. How far in the future depends on the impact of Generative AI on creative writing or in fact any form of written communication.

College Counseling

“You wanted to see mr, Mr. Downing?’

“Yes, please have a seat, Xue. It’s about your college applications, in which you state that you intend to pursue Written English and Literature as your fields of study.”

“That’s right. Was there something wrong in the way I presented that? Was it unclear? Was I unconvincing in the video?”

“No, no, your presentation was fine. In fact I’d judge it to be among the top college application videos that I’ve ever reviewed.”

“Thank you, Mr. Downing.”

“No, it’s not about the video. It’s about your choice of field of study. Why Written English and Lit? You must realize that Written English is a dying if not dead subject. I mean it’s like studying Sanskrit. Unless you plan to go into a college teaching career—and how many of those are around—how would you make a living?”

“I just find that reading the original words of stories and novels is fascinating. How the authors put words and sentences together to create a personality, an environment, and an emotion. To study each author’s way of crafting their work to get their ideas across.”

“Well I see that you are taking four years of Written English to fulfill your language requirement. And you did very well—straight 4.0s. I’m curious. How did you, a second generation immigrant, become so fascinated with studying English and not aim for something in college more practical and rewarding like law or medicine or AI?”

“My introductory ninth grade class was taught by Mr. Ngawa. He is an immigrant too and yet he made reading the original words so fascinating. He said that not being born into the language gave him a fresh viewpoint and appreciation of it. He’s even working on a novel himself now. So I think his class was the biggest influence on me.”

“Well, you certainly did well in his class. But I’m not sure Mr. Ngawa did you any favors by getting you hooked. Fully written-out English is hardly in use now. When there are written communications, it’s mostly txt characters and icons. So much faster and clearer than even phoning. And using the speak-to-txt app, means you don’t even have to type. All instructional manuals are in video formats. Podcasts for information and opinion. Written English is just not a very practical major in our present society.”

“I know you want to help me, Mr. Downing, but reading the actual words that a writer uses gives me a connection that txt and icons don’t.”

“Xue, if you are talking about the so-called master works of fiction, they have been all put into visual form and, with music added, they convey the emotional content as vividly and clearly, perhaps even more so, than the printed word does. Now take Shakespeare. The video versions of his plays are in the language we use today so that they are easier to understand and their content is more accessible. Why would you want to read them in their original form and struggle to decipher his archaic English? And if you prefer to actually read from the printed page, there are manga adaptations of many “classic” novels that use the actual author’s words, though abbreviated to fit the manga format.”

“I realize that I could make more money studying something else in college. If you look at my math scores, they’re all 3.9s and 4.0s. But that’s not where my heart is. Maybe I could end up making a living by teaching or even writing.”

“Xue, even in the area of current creative writing, authors frame their work for the video and audio formats, not for the printed page since no one reads anymore. The scripts that are used in movies, television drama, and immersive, interactive first person adventures are AI generated. Or largely so. The same with technical instructions.”

“I know you have my best interests at heart, Mr. Downing, but I’m aware of the situation. I’m willing to take my chances. Even if I have to work at service jobs for a while until things click for me.”

“Well—-bravely spoken, Xue. Do your parents know of your plans? What do they think?”

“They are from the old country, but they are willing to let me try to find my own path, although I know they would rather have me follow a more conventional route like medicine or engineering. I told them I would try to do it without their support.”

“Xue, I just wanted to be certain that you know what you’re getting into before you’re too far along this senior year to change. It looks like you are aware of what you will face. I’ll help you in any way that I can. If you should decide on pursuing something else, please let me know. Otherwise, good luck with following your dream, Xue. I’ll schedule another meeting with you for February.”

“Thanks, Mr. Downing.”

May, 2025, Story

A Night Walk

Time to take that nightly walk, Olivia thought. The night was still warm from the heat of the summer day. and there was hardly any breeze. No need for a sweater or a scarf. As usual, she used the toilet before going out. I don’t want to have to rush home and risk a fall even though I’m just going around the block. It’s a long block and I walk slowly. I guess I could wear one of those adult diaper-type things, but I like to think I haven’t got there yet. But someday who knows.

Her cane was by the door next to where Lucy’s collar and leash still hung from one of the clothes pegs on the left wall in the entry way above the bench where she sat to put on her walking shoes. No laces she thought, glad they came out with these velcro straps. Old Lucy, I miss you. Fourteen years old. You didn’t pull hard anymore like you did when you were a puppy, after you became slow, just like me. We were two old dogs out for a walk. If Tommy had heard me say that he would have laughed and said, “Glad you didn’t say two old bitches.” Well now there’s just one, me. Check and double check to make sure I have the key before I close the door. Don’t want to lock myself out. Turn on the outside light.

She carefully descended the two steps to the cracked concrete walkway leading to the sidewalk; holding on to her cane with one hand and the stair railing with the other. How did I ever manage this with Lucy too? That was two years ago, and I was steadier on my feet then. Just two years, what a difference. And long before that, I walked with Tommy every night, no problem. Lucy was a big support for me when you suddenly died and left me, Tom, and it’s been thirteen years. No warning, Tom, that was the worse part. When you didn’t come in for lunch, I went to the garage and found you stretched out on the ground next to the car. Gone. I think I hated you for doing that to me, even as I cried and loved you and missed you. Oh Tommy. We had a good life together, didn’t we? Except for the ending.

It was a safe neighborhood. Not gated, but with neighbors who had been mostly living here a long time; who’d raised families and stayed even when their children had grown and gone. Just like ours Olivia thought. Jerry. Gone to the Big city where the jobs and opportunities are. How’s that song go—‘New York, New York it’s a wonderful town?’ Not many kids on this street now. Though that nice new family moved in down the street last month with two young kids. Linns. Said they left the big city so their kids could grow up with grass and they could walk to school by themselves safely. Guess that’s why I still stay here. Even though Jerry keeps telling me I should move to a retirement community. Said there’re some in the City so I could be closer to him. Or at least one in Connecticut that would be nearer to him than I am here. Our home with so many memories that are hard to leave. And our town where I can walk safely at night by myself. Try doing that in New York.

The street lamps cast their light through the canopies of the elms that lined the street making a pattern of shifting light and dark shadows on the sidewalk and street. Olivia knew every crack and uneven rise in the sidewalk by heart. But she still walked with her head bent slightly forward so that she could watch where she stepped. She seldom met anyone else. She preferred it that way. Not that she was unfriendly, but standing still and talking was really hard on her back. Walking during that in-between hour when dinner was over for most people and they were watching TV and too early for the dog owners taking their last walk before winding up the day. Like I did with Lucy.

I used to be able to hear the programs that each neighbor was watching, especially during the summer with the windows open. But now, even with my new hearing aids, it all sounds muffled and distant. Bad ears, bad eyes, bad back, bad knees. Like they say, ‘growing old is not for sissies.” Tommy, you were no sissy, but you didn’t stay around long enough to find out if that was true. Just seventy six. And just retired eight years. You left me to find out about growing really old all by myself. You were so active and strong, Tennis three times a week. Gardening. Volunteering. Still liked sex. And yes, I did too, and I didn’t need to take a blue pill. Well, I still think about us. Dirty old lady—ah, if they only knew. It took me a while to get used to not having you around. When you were first gone, I’d start to say something to you when my back was turned and then realize that you weren’t there. And I would ache all over again. Who ever said time heals all things? Baloney. But we learn to adjust and cope and survive. If it had been me to go first, how would you have done? Would you have found someone to replace me? Like trading in a car? I wear the wedding ring you gave on a chain around my neck. Fingers got so arthritic that it wouldn’t fit on my fourth finger any more. Funny, I still feel for it there every once in a while. I put your ring and my engagement ring in with your ashes. Ah Tommy, I like to think that you’re still around me somewhere and you can hear me. Guess that doesn’t fit with Rev. Mathew’s idea of Heaven.

She’d made her way around three sides of the long block, and was now rounding the fourth corner and heading home. Up ahead, under a street lamp, Olivia saw a person in a black hoody walking towards her. But all in black? Not the safest way to dress at night. A young person’s walk, she thought. She decided it was a man, feeling a momentary worry. Not many young men in our neighborhood now. Maybe back from college, visiting parents or grandparents? Should I cross the street? If he plans to hurt me, I couldn’t out run him anyway. I’ll just say good night as we pass. Hs face was still hidden by the hood as they drew closer.

He spoke first, a pleasant tenor voice, “Good evening, Olive Oil.”

That stopped her. “Wait. What? Why I haven’t been called that since I was in high school! Do I know you?”

He laughed, “Oh, I know everything about you, Olivia.”

“Who are you? Please take down your hood so I can see your face. What a surprise.”

He pulled back his hood, revealing the face of a smiling young man with head of thick, black hair.

“I don’t recognize you,” she said after studying his face. “Did I meet you at your parents’ home when you visited?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m here tonight just to see you, Olivia. But I think you already know me.”

“I know you?” Then the slow realization, as she watched him waiting patiently, still smiling. “Yes, I have been expecting you. But you’re so young and good looking. What took you so long to find me?”

“To each in their own time. And I like not being stereotyped.” he replied. “But now, are you ready to go? Shall we dance?”

“It’s been so long since I’ve danced. I’ve forgotten how to.”

“Take my hand and I’ll lead. It’ll be easy.”

November 2024 story

Do Over

“Are these really the Pearly Gates and are you Saint Peter?”

“Welcome William, and yes to both your questions.”

“What a relief! I wasn’t sure that I would qualify to be here.”

“Why were you worried? You lived a life that many who were sent the Other Way would have envied and now wished that they had led.”

“But I’ve done things and left things undone in my life that I now deeply regret and wish that I could do over.”

“Perfection is only for our Supreme Being. Remember, there were even angels who fell from grace because of arrogance and pride and were banished to Hell. And I denied the Christ three times out of fear and cowardice and yet was forgiven. As has been said, ‘to err is human.’ And fortunately, ‘to forgive is Divine.’”

“Still I have regrets. Is there any way I could help my mortal self be a better me?”

“A do-over. You are a good soul to wish that you could have led an even better life than you did. Most people are just delighted that they made it here and are happy to leave their earthly past behind. But you do recognize there is an element of pride in your wish?”

“But is there a way?”

“Yours is an infrequent but not unique request. Yes there is a way, but there are rules and stipulations. You cannot physically return because that would mean there would be two of you occupying the same space and time, an impossibility in the scheme of the universe. Nor can you return as an astral body, since if the earthly you saw you that would give him foreknowledge of the after life and influence his exercise of Free Will.”

“What then?”

“You will be permitted to return to visit your younger self when he is in REM sleep. To speak to him then, to persuade him to alter his future behavior. Thus you will neither give him knowledge that there is after-life nor affect his Free Will, since it will be his choice to heed or not what you say to him. And unlike ordinary dreams, he will retain memory of your visit when he awakens.”

“Will it work?”

“If I told you, that would influence the exercise of your Free Will.”

“It seems so complicated, but thank you. It’s worth a try.”

“No need to thank me. It’s all in the rules. And in what guise you choose to appear in his dream will be up to you. The Gates are open for you. Enter. You may start whenever you wish.”

Time has no meaning in Heaven. Sometime after William got over his initial awe that he was actually there, joyfully reunited with his mother and father, he began to pay visits in dreams to his mortal self.

Jonah, his best friend in middle school, had moved to another city across the continent. They said that they would stay in contact but, after a few months, he ghosted Jonah because he thought, ‘what’s the use? I’ll never see him again.’ Jonah continued to send messages but he never replied. Years later he ran into Jonah at a meeting who told him how hurt he had been by William’s rejection.

William decided to appear to his teen-self as their mother who admonished teen-William for neglecting his best friend’s messages: ‘Jonah was your best friend, how can you just cut him off without even an explanation? it’s a really terribly cruel thing to do. how would you feel if he did that to you?’ “But Mom, I’ll never see him again, so why waste my time and his?” the teen replied in his dream.

In college, he bought a stolen copy of a final exam in a course where he was barely getting a ‘C’. William appeared to his college-self as his father who was a sternly honest man: ‘you are tempted to use that stolen exam to cheat, something I have tried to teach you never to do. though you may receive a high grade, you will always remember that you cheated and violated the honor code and it will linger on your conscience.’ (As indeed it had.) “Dad, I have to keep up my GPA so that I’ll have a chance at grad school,” college-William replied.

There was the time he attended a convention alone in Los Vegas and ran into Roxanne, his former girl friend from high school, who was at the same meeting. Roxanne had been pretty in high school and was now a mature beauty, divorced for two years. The third day of the meeting, they had dinner together to catch up and talk about old times and, both well lubricated by wine by dinner’s end, when Roxanne invited him to her room he accepted. But at her door he stopped, saying ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t. It’s not you, it’s me. I have a wife I love; kids. I’m sorry. I’d better go.’ He turned and left quickly with Roxanne loudly cursing him. He never told his wife, but always carried a tremendous feeling of guilt about the near-betrayal.

So he decided to appeared to convention-William in a dream on the first night of the meeting as his teenaged older daughter Cindy. ’dad, you once thought you loved Roxanne in high school, but now you love mom. please don’t hurt mom by falling again for Roxanne. even if no one else ever knows, you always will.’ William woke with a start, disturbed by the dream. But later that day, he made dinner reservations for two.

There were other times he appeared in the dreams of his mortal self—once as an older William saying directly that ‘I know what will happen if you don’t do this. take my word for it. i’m you in the future.’ Too weird, thought his younger self on wakening. He also appeared several times as a good friend and another time as a business associate. And even as his fiancee who would become his wife.

Saint Peter checked on William to see how the interventions were working.

“It’s very disappointing,” William said. “No matter what I’ve said and tried, my mortal self continues to do the same things.”

“What about that time in Vegas?” asked Saint Peter. “You didn’t yield to temptation.”

“But I didn’t heed the warning and went ahead to arrange for dinner that led up to being tempted. At Roxanne’s door I didn’t stop because I remembered the warning. I stopped because there was still a shred of decency that cut through the wine and lust.”

“And what do you conclude from this?” asked Saint Peter.

“That the past cannot be changed from the vantage point of the future?”

“Yes, you are right. Because even a small change in the past would have cascading effects that could alter what follows and produce different futures. History is non-malleable.”

“I guess that means that our mortal selves had better get it right the first time, because there are no do-overs,” William said.

March 2024 story

Astro One Has Landed

The ship did what it was designed to do flawlessly. For 294 years it maintained its five person crew in cryosuspension as it hurtled through space at 1/10th the speed of light towards their destination. It had taken 2 Sol years to get up to travel speed and another year to slow down as it approached its goal, a red dwarf sun 29 light years from Sol orbited by two planets of near earth size. The further planet was icy, but the planet nearer its sun had evidence of water vapor and oxygen, but most importantly, the SETI-III program had detected micro- and radio-wave transmissions emanating from it that were clearly of technologic origin. Life, advanced life!

As the ship approached one light year from the planet it began to beam a stream of video and information towards it to signal its imminent arrival. The content was designed to give the beings living on the planet a chance to decipher human language and understand human nature enough to permit communication.

Now the ship began the process of slowly reanimating the crew. As their bodies thawed, their cells were purged of the chemicals that had kept them from being disrupted by freezing. The crew’s brain functions were tested, compared to pre-voyage results and found to be identical. All other body functions were also undamaged.

“Welcome back life and welcome to M534-2A as we enter orbit around it,” the ship said. “I have notified Houston of our arrival though they will not receive it for twenty-nine years.”

“We beat the odds, we made it!” said Sorrel, the ship’s captain, in a joyful yet relieved tone.

“All five of us. The ship didn’t do a ‘2001’ on us,” Tomaso said, referring to an ancient movie about a space exploration gone terribly wrong.

“Hal no! Astro 0ne’s a good ship!” Zhang said.

“Ships are neither good nor bad. Ships are given a task to perform and, unless there is a human flaw in our programming or production, ships will carry it out,” Astro One, the ship said.

“Sorry, Astro One,” said Zhang, “Bad joke.”

“Ships are not programmed to understand jokes,“ replied Astro One.

Roy looked at the image of the planet they were now orbiting and murmured pensively, “Twenty-nine light years and two hundred ninety-four Sol years away from all that we knew. Wonder what Earth’s like now?”

“We all knew it would be a one-way trip when we signed on,” Sorrel replied. “We had no guarantee we would even wake up from cryo sleep.”

“Or what kind of reception, if any we would receive, on arrival,” commented OHare.

Astro One opened up all its communication channels to receive electromagnetic waves from the planet, and coherent but undecipherable noise poured from the speakers and the main screen displayed a jumble of lines and flashes. Then the screen cleared and words appeared: Alien craft, do you receive this? If do, respond on the channel you using to beam content to us.

“Okay, Astro,” said Sorrel. “Let them know we do.”

“Done,” Astro One said.

Good. Let we and you start to know each other by exchanging images.

Sorrel motioned the crew to group in front of the screen. “Okay, Astro, send them our picture.”

Most interest. The five of you group organism or individuals?

“Individuals, but we work together,” Sorrel said.

Thank you. Now this is what we look like.

The crew stared at the screen for a long time; the first humans to see the inhabitants of another world. “They’re black with web-like extensions on their upper extremities, the vegetation around them is black or dark blue-purple and the sky is yellow-orangish” said Roy.

“With the lower energy output of a red sun, black is the most efficient way to harvest that energy,” said Zhang, the exobiologist.

You are different types of pale that we seldom if ever see except in visitors from more energetic suns.

“Yes, our sun is a yellow sun,” said Ohare. “But wait—did you say you have visitors? We are not the first?”

No. There are visitors who—I believe you call sightseeing—visit periodically.

“Tourism! The rest of the galaxy visits other planets for pleasure. My God, we are so naive and backward,” exclaimed Tomaso.

“Request your permission to send a probe down to your planetary surface to test for what may be lethal for us in your atmosphere and on your surface,” said Sorrel.

Before we allow any physical contact, you will be screened for any harm that you may cause us. You will maintain orbit and will be approached by automated laboratory to test you. Laboratory will dispatch robot to your ship, take samples of your air, test your tissues for composition, and for the microlife that you carry. Agree?

“What kind of tissue tests do you mean? asked Sorrel.

Very small pieces from your outer covering and small samples of your circulation fluid.

“And if we refuse?” asked Sorrel.

You will not allow to enter our atmosphere and not to land. If you try in spite of warning, you will be destroyed.

“We agree to the testing,” said Sorrel with a shrug.

Very good. You are the first from your world and we are most curious and want to learn more.

The crew silently watched the screen as a metallic spherical craft lifted from the planet, approached without any sign of propulsion, and stopped alongside Astro One.

“Just look at that. Rocket-less!,” Ohare the engineer said. “If we learn how that works, it would be totally worth our trip.”

A cylinder detached from the sphere and floated over, attached itself to the airlock, opened it and entered. The crew backed away from it instinctively. Their first encounter with an alien mechanism. The cylinder protruded four flexible jointless legs, a camera-like object on a stalk from one end, and two extremities below the camera with smaller flexible digits at their ends.

Not be afraid, Robot take samples from two of you then return to laboratory to process them. No hurt.

“Since I’m the captain, I’ll go first,” said Sorrel. “Who will go second?”

“Guess I will,” said Zhang. rolling up the sleeve on her right arm.

They approached the robot and involuntarily flinched as the robot extended its arms to touch them. But whatever it did, there was no pain and no bleeding and it was over in a matter of seconds. The robot retreated to the airlock, exited, and returned to the sphere.

Laboratory will process you. Take time like one half your day. While you wait, here are pictures of us and our world.

“Astro, record what they are sending and beam it back to earth,” Sorrel said.

“Yes, captain.”

“I don’t see them wearing clothes except for small bags they carry around their middle,” Tomaso observed.

“They probably need to maximize absorption from their dimmer red sun,” said Zhang. “If so, I wonder if they directly convert solar energy to their use? Could they have a plant-like biology?”

“Their oceans look yellow-orangish too,” observed Roy. “And they do have cities with mostly low-rise structures. We’re so accustomed to seeing green vegetation that black and blue-purple forests will take some getting used to.”

“Interesting that all the animals they show us are bipedal, as they are,”observed Ohare.

“The planet is .85 Earth-mass, lower gravity, so maybe there’s no need for four-limb support,” said Zhang.

“They are ready to contact us with the laboratory results,” said Astro, as the screen came back on to show the natives

“Did we pass as safe for you?” asked Sorrel.

Fascinating. You are constructed of proteins as we, but of completely incompatible structure. Even your microlife could not attach itself to any of us, I believe you call them viruses, because we do not have attachment sites on our cells and even if they could attach they could not reprogram our cells to reproduce.

“So you would allow us to land?” said Sorrel.

Yes, you could do us no harm. And also our microlife could not infect you for the reverse reason.

“Wait, does this also mean we cannot digest any of your food. Is that right?” asked Zhang.

Yes, because you could not process it.

“How ironic,” Roy cried. “We arrive at an alien world and find that we will starve to death once our food stores run out since we have no fuel for a return trip to earth, even if we could reenter cryo.

You worry that you will lack food?

“Yes,” said Sorrel. “We have enough for thirty earth days or approximately sixty of yours. After that we will starve.”

Is no problem. We analyze your protein structures, we can set machinery to make types of protein that you need.

“You would do that for us?”

Do for other visitors who like to stay for long visit. Our histosocial scientists also like to find out more about you and your world.

“We will be with you for a very long time,” said Sorrel. “We have insufficient fuel to return to our world.”

Is no problem. When time to go, we return you by interstellar drive. You get back the same day from here.

“Interstellar drive! The dream, the Holy Grail” exclaimed Ohare. “And they have it!”

“My God, just when we thought we’d had it, they can fix everything, even get us home!” cried Tomaso, echoing the entire crew’s feeling of joy and relief. “This is unbelievable!”

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Sorrel said.

Is no problem. People of galaxy help each other when they have ability to do so. Is basic principle for life. When ready you can land.

Sorrel looked at the crew. “Are we ready to take that first step for mankind onto an alien world? We will analyze their air after we land.”

“Yes!!”

“Okay Astro, prepare the engines for firing.”

Stop. Is problem. You use historical fuel burning engines? Would spoil our air.

“It’s our only means of propulsion,” said Ohare.

“Astro, hold,” Sorrel commanded. Then to the aliens, “We cannot descend without their use.”

Is no problem. We send craft to attach to you. Bring you down without your engines.

“Astro, stop the engine firing sequence,” said Sorrel.

“It’s like Christmas morning. There’s so much we can learn here,” Ohare said.

Again the crew watched as two metallic globes rose from the surface and drew close. They felt a nudge as the globes attached to Astro, and saw the surface grow steadily closer as they descended without jerks or vibrations. Just a final small bump as they landed.

“Okay Astro, run an analysis on the air,” Sorrel said.

To the inhabitants waiting outside he explained, “We are just checking your air composition before venturing out.”

Shortly Astro reported, “There is enough oxygen for you to breathe at 22% with the rest made up of nitrogen and argon that are inert. There are no noxious gases. You will not need respirators.”

“Then let’s do it!” Sorrel said.

—————————————————————-

The crew explored the planet with their hosts who they now knew as “Earthlings” since each planetary race considers its world “earth.” Oral communication had been enhanced by the development of simultaneous personal translator devices. They had spent a great deal of time with the Earthlings’ histosociologists, exploring each other’s planetary history and societal makeup. Astro One was of great study interest as a historical artifact and it lectured visitors about its construction and operation.

Two Sol years passed. Sorrel and Ohare brought up the subject of the interstellar drive on several occasions but their hosts were evasive about sharing the technology. Finally after yet another query, their main guide told Sorrel bluntly, “You beings are just not ready for it. Your history indicates that your race has not yet achieved “Personhood ” as other interstellar races have.

“I know we are technologically far behind, but just what do you mean not ready?” asked Sorrel.

“It is not technology,” replied their host. “Our world is a billion years older than yours so of course we are more advanced in the technical area. It’s your social history. Your world has been constantly at war with itself. If you had the interstellar drive, you could run amok among the civilized worlds of the galaxy. No, you will have to show that you have moved beyond just ‘beings’ and have achieved Personhood.”

“What would that entail?

“For a start, the cessation of war, a state of planet-wide peace, for at least two hundred years.”

“It’s been almost three hundred years since we departed Earth. Perhaps things have changed and Earth has been at peace,” Sorrel said.

Once our sociohistorians explored your history with the crew, accessed your ship’s memory banks, and discovered your warlike nature, we dispatched ships to survey your planet and found it still at war.

“Very disappointing. I wonder if we’ll ever be able to change,” said Sorrel.

That’s something only your race can do for itself.

——————————————————————————

Another Sol year passed. Roy and Tomaso were ready to return to earth although it would be a place totally foreign to them after three hundred years. “I am so tired of eating the tasteless food pellets that they manufacture for us,” Roy said.

Sorrel would also return, hoping that the information she brought back to the governments and peoples of earth would provide a goal for giving up war.

Is no problem, their Earthling host said when informed of their desire. Take you back by interstellar drive next survey trip to check on your world.

Zhang and Ohare decided to remain behind and continue their studies of the Earthlings, their history, biology, and technology.

“Adam and Eve?” joked Sorrel when they told her of their decision.

“No,” said Zhang. “We’ll return eventually. We’d like our children to grow up with other children and to know the colors of a rainbow, the green of forests, the various blues of the oceans.”

“And the true emerald green that’s only found in Eire,” added Ohare.

January, 2024, story

The Office Visit

Jimmie Lowe cautiously opened the door to the clinic and peeked inside before opening it wider to enter the reception area and look around. It was his first visit to this clinic, having switched health plans because of the the increase in his health insurance payments. The reception area seemed clean and well-maintained but looked somewhat Spartan with off-white walls hung with posters promoting healthy life habits, exercise, and good nutrition. The seating was generic office chairs positioned along the walls. Half of the seats were taken by other patients. There were none of the potted plants, paintings and soft lighting he was used to at his old medical office. He approached the receptionist’s desk. The receptionist looked up from her screen.

“Good morning,” said Jimmie. “I have a ten o’clock appointment, but I’m a new patient and my appointment notice didn’t say who my doctor is.”

“What’s your name and date of birth?” asked the receptionist.

“James Lowe, that’s with an ‘e,’ and my birthday is March 7, 1963.”

The receptionist spoke softly into her earbuds mike, waited a short time while staring at her screen and then looked up. “Okay, I have your file. Since you’re a new member, one of our member coordinators will be here to guide you through your first visit. Please have a seat and Ken Jones will be with you shortly.”

Jimmie took a seat between an older woman and a bored-looking teen who was thumbing through her phone. It was only twelve minutes, but seemed much longer as Jimmie fidgeted with his own phone.

“Welcome to our office Mr. Lowe, I’m Ken Jones,” said a soft voice.

Jimmie looked up, and was very surprised to see a smiling, white-haired senior citizen, straight back, standing in front of him.

“You look surprised, Mr. Lowe,” observed Ken Jones.

“To be honest, yes,” replied Jimmie. “I thought that I might be seeing a younger doctor, not someone closer to my age, and not that I mean to insult you or your abilities. I mean you must have a great deal of experience and knowledge.”

“Oh,” said Ken with a laugh. “I’m not your doctor. I’m your care coordinator, and I was assigned to you just because we are somewhat close in age, thinking you might be more comfortable talking with me than with a younger person. Shall we get started with your orientation? I’ll take you to an examination room and we can go over the details there.”

“Will I meet my new doctor there too?” Jimmie asked, following Ken through the door leading to the exam rooms.

“Well, in a manner of speaking, yes.” They paused in front of the intake room. “This is Will, the clinic assistant who will check your weight and vital signs.” Will asked Jimmie to step on the weighing square on the floor, placed the telemetry band on his arm to measure his temperature, heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen saturation, and blood sugar all of which were immediately entered into his file.

“Thank you Bill, said Jimmie as Ken led him away to an exam room.

Unlike the waiting area and hallway, the exam room walls were a warm beige, and there were landscape photographs hung on the walls. Jimmie noted that there was no examination table, just three comfortable chairs and a large monitor as well as the mandatory sink.

Ken placed his palm on the monitor to activate it. He said, “I know this must probably strike you as different from the exam rooms you’re accustomed to. We get that reaction from most new members. Do you have any questions before I start to show you how all of this comes together to take the very best care off your health?”

“Just about my new doctor.”

“I’ll bring up pictures of the doctors that you can select from,” said Ken. “Also I want to assure you that we take personal privacy very seriously. Before you leave today I will help you register your palm print as you saw me do just now, so that only you and your doctor will have access to your medical file.” Ken spoke to his earbud and the screen switched from a soothing abstract pattern to display twenty-four persons, neatly dressed in white coats. They were of different ages and ethnicities, equally divided male and female. “They will introduce themselves so that you can hear their voices. And remember, you always have the right to change doctors if you find that you and your doctor are not on the same wave length.”

Each of the doctors spoke in turn stating their name and welcoming Jimmie by name, which impressed him. “I’m amazed that each of them was so well prepared for this interview that they knew my name,” he said.

“We try to make your first visit go easily. But did anyone of them stand out for you?” asked Ken.

“Well, I think I liked Dr. Gupta,” said Jimmie. “I’d like to try him as my doctor. When will I get to meet him?”

“You just have,” said Ken.

“No, I mean in person.”

“Dr. Gupta is—how shall I put it—a personification of our care system, but after you’ve worked with him a few times I am certain that you will become very satisfied with his care and manner.”

“Wait. Could you repeat that.”

“Dr. Gupta personifies our health care system to you as you interact with it.”

“Personifies? Wait—is Dr. Gupta a real person?”

“No.”

You mean he’s an avatar?!”

“To be blunt, yes. But—“

“I left my former plan with a human doctor to now have an avatar as my doctor? This is insane. I must have been crazy.”

“Mr. Lowe, please hear me out first. Scientists have demonstrated that supercomputer-assisted medical care will provide better, more accurate and satisfying results than human doctors working alone can. I can show you the published scientific articles that have established this beyond a doubt.”

“Good grief. I shouldn’t have switched.”

“It was felt that for a new client to come in and interact just with a computer would not be easily accepted by many people. Therefor putting a face and name in front of the patient would make the visit more familiar. With your permission may I bring back Dr. Gupta to show you just how easy and natural it is?”

“Oh why not since I’m already here. This is nuts.”

“Thank you for keeping an open mind.” Ken called back Dr. Gupta whose smiling face reappeared on the monitor.

“Hello again Mr. Lowe and Ken,” said Dr. Gupta in a warm voice. Would you rather be addressed as Mr. Lowe or Jimmie?”

“Jimmie’s fine.”

“Now is there anything you wish to talk about or ask about before I review your past medical history with you. And are you comfortable with Ken in the room or would you prefer that he leave while we chat?”

“Ken can stay. What medical school did you go to and where did you get your training?” dead-panned Jimmie.

“You have a wry sense of humor, Jimmie,” laughed Dr. Gupta. “My medical training was all with IBM. Now, any other questions or concerns?”

“Just that I’m here talking with a computer.”

“Well, I hope that when we’re done you will think of me as your personal care provider Would you like me to review your medical history with you now? I’ve looked through your records from your previous doctors. There are a few questions that I have.”

“Sure.”

“First I’ll put up on the screen the list of medicines that you’re on. Is the list correct?”

“I’m no longer on aspirin. I don’t know why that’s still on the list. I may have had an allergic reaction to it.”

“Were you ever tested?” asked Gupta.

“No.”

“I would recommend that we have that done to answer the question.”

“Would I have to pay for that?”

“No. And I must say, Jimmie that, as the cliche goes, you are in a remarkable state of health for your age. So few medicines.”

“I try to eat a good diet and exercise regularly.”

“Excellent. Your efforts show good results. Shall we review the particulars of your diet and exercise regimen first? Now who prepares your meals?”

Over the course of the next hour and a half, Gupta guided Jimmie through a very thorough review of his life and medical history. There were no changes to his medications but Gupta did schedule Jimmie to be tested for the question of aspirin allergy, and made an appointment for him with physical therapy to address his complaints of morning back stiffness.

“Will the therapist be a person?” asked Jimmie.

“Yes,” laughed Gupta. No robots as of now. And you will be scheduled for a physical exam, which I of course cannot perform myself, with one of our physician’s assistants. Now any final concerns or questions?”

“I think you’ve answered them all, Dr. Gupta. Thank you,” said Jimmie.

“You’re very welcome.” .Gupta waved goodbye, opened the door behind him and went through, leaving an empty office on the screen.

Ken turned to Jimmie, “Well, how do you feel it went?”

“I’ve never had such a long and thorough visit with any doctor,” said Jimmie. “I totally forgot that I was talking to an avatar. I am impressed.”

“And you’ll find that another nice thing is that you’ll be able to contact Dr. Gupta day or night, 24/7, with your health questions or concerns. That is after I show you how to access him securely from your home imaging device. Shall we get started?” said Ken.