The Barren Planet

The recession began on a Monday with a junior analyst in an obscure New Boston brokerage. At 9:32:07 he found a quarter-point dip on a hyperderivitive of a tertiary economic indicator. A cursory check found similar dips in adjacent verticals. All his mathematical and statistical training told him the dip was a fluctuation, a bit of background noise that had no real effect on the economy. But sometimes, he’d always believed, a man has to go with his gut. By 9:42:23 he had posted a commentary on his firm’s blog titled, Are We in a Recession. (He forgot the question mark.) “The major indicators are going up. But is the market headed for the second moon or the void between the stars?” At 9:45:07, the feed curator of Stockman Financial News scanned the post and ordered it moved to the top, declaring it, well-written, authoritative without being megalomaniacal, and sexy the way the girl next door looks, the more you look at her. The assistant protested that the post was predicated on faulty

My thoughts this week are with the victims of Monterey Park, Half Moon Bay and their families. Justice cannot arrive too soon. — Franklin Bitter The Bombings on Pras, Video Excerpt : Yabank City, Pras, correspondents report. There are multiple reports from all over Pras of explosions in public places. Although no one has yet taken responsibility, a pattern is emerging. All are in prominent cities claimed by Nama separatists, and all are in public marketplaces. That these attacks are connected to the separatist movement remains speculative. When asked to comment, Executor Sheds... Video Excerpt, Veronica Talis : ...That’s why The Red Heart is asking for donations of blood, other nutrient fluids, or whatever you can give, to assist the victims of these attacks. With your help... Partial Transcript_ Emergency meeting of the Amerian Security Council Attendees: Executor Jay Brookside Sheds Alexander Krishnan, Security advisor Daewood Butt, Governor of Shein Weijun He, Govern

Between support calls, Schultz did what his supervisors called ‘bitwork’. A fragment of an empty form would appear in his work area. Portions of entry fields were covered so that the visible fragments of data made no sense. Schultz’s job was to copy the fragmented bits to a second set of entry fields which were marked to match the first. None of it made sense, but the most baffling part of the job was that he always had to reverse the order of the characters. The only reason given for such nonsensical work was ‘security’. If he could make a coherent guess about what the text said, it was a good day. If he could fit a dirty word into one of the spaces, it was a very good day. Schultz’s message queue pinged. The sound was the repeating, ascending scale of a management directive. The alert would continue until he played the message. Ignoring the directive wasn’t an option. In the coming days any supervisor might question him at any moment. “How many pens are you allowed per year, Schultz?

As the Asteric moon slumped toward the horizon, the iron bench across the street from the Talon's bar ground at Josh's leg bones. He tolerated it for the sake of the fleeting comfort of contact with other living beings. The patrons wandering in and out of Talon's—the Humans, the Selk, the Kelig, the species Josh didn't know—ignored the Human crouched in the dark grasping at overheard pieces of others' lives. At a quarter past 27, a gold skinned Beseri entered the nearby crosswalk just as two drunk Paggons (as Humans from the suburbs were called) entered from the opposite side. As they passed each other one of the Paggons lurched into the Beseri, nearly knocking him over. They blamed the Beseri, letting loose a litany of expletives before moving on. Down the block a Selk was yelling crude remarks at a reptilian. “Hey babe, how ‘bout some lizard lovin?” The Selk erupted with laughter. When the reptilian ignored the taunt, the Selk turned to insults. Whether the