Fantasy Sex Culture in the 23rd Century

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First Prologue: The Inevitable Decline

and Fall of Fredrik Diem​

"Fredrik..."

Madeline's voice was music to his ears. But then, that's how he had been conditioned. The mere sound of her voice, the mere gaze of those dark, commanding eyes, was enough to get him hard. Fredrik didn't have to look down to know what was starting to develop in his pants.

She turned her head and smiled at him, and saw she was having the desired effect. As he stared at her naked back he was massaging, he tried very hard not to notice the swelling of her naked breasts, which were crunched between her and the padded bench beneath her like a very tasty sandwich.

"You seemed lost for a moment," she said.

Lost. That was the perfect word for it. Fredrik wasn't yet lost, but he was fighting it with all his might.

Fredrik and Laura had come to The United States of the Americas, the late 23rd century successor to the good old US of A, in search of a better life and greater excitement compared to their backwards existence on New Caledonia. What they found was a society extremely advanced in every way, technologically, socially, politically, and culturally. But that advancement came with a price. Citizens gave up their freedoms to build greater Community, and the Community made all the decisions for them--what they wore, what they ate, what they worked at... and even who they loved.

At first Fredrik and Laura hadn't noticed it, but bit by bit, they started to lose their love for each other. Night after night of relentless SleepTalk sessions, which assailed their defenseless unconscious minds, smoothing them until they shone like pebbles, saw to that. Gradually Fredrik found that Madeline, a 42 year old expert seductress with large, pouting breasts, began to fill the place in his heart once filled by Laura, his 19 year old fiancé, who had the most exciting body Fredrik could imagine. Until he met Madeline. Until he met SleepTalk.

In the meantime, Laura was being slowly reprogrammed as well. He suspected that she was being conditioned to be sexually attracted to Mary Elizabeth Coca Cola, the powerfully sensual artist who had taken Laura under her wing. Fredrik had only met her once, but only one look at her sparkling green eyes were needed to reveal that Mary Elizabeth enjoyed pursuing and devouring women. Fredrik had no proof of that, as of yet, but he saw the way Mary Elizabeth looked at Laura, the way she put her arm around Laura at parties, and more disturbingly, the way Laura looked at her.

But Fredrik had his own problems. He was trying hard, so desperately hard, not to cross the line.

He talked to Madeline, frequently. That was acceptable. She was his boss. She flirted with him shamelessly. That was acceptable, too. They had long lunches together. They were friends, he told himself, and so that was permissible too.

She sometimes touched his arm as they talked. That was... all right. Then, when he was tense, she started rubbing his shoulders. That crossed the line a little bit, but not too much. After all, she was doing it to him, not the other way around.

She started talking about her Connections, and what it took for a man to please her. As a boss, that was unacceptable. As a close friend, as a good friend... well, he could kind of justify that, even though it was really obvious she was talking about sex as a way of seducing him. The way she described how she liked her breasts to be touched. The way she used her hand to show him the swirling pattern she liked in the other place she also liked to be touched. The way she described how she relished getting down on her knees and doing special things to enable men to... serve her a second or even a third time.

All right, he had to admit, that kind of talk was completely over the line, and Laura would never understand it. But it was entirely one way. Madeline was doing it, not him. Or was it only one way? The way his body reacted to her voice, to her smile, to her lips, maybe it wasn't so one way. Would Laura be understanding if he told her how hard he got when Madeline merely looked at him?

No.

Would Laura understand that he was now giving her almost naked massages on a semi-regular basis?

Probably not.

And now they danced ever closer to the very edge of the solid ground of fidelity. After Fredrik had been convicted of aggravated sexism, and had faced the daunting sentence of voluntary castration, Madeline had saved him from that fate by arguing for a lesser punishment. At the time, he had been so grateful, and offered to do anything for her. It had only been later, much later, that he began to wonder if he had been manipulated from the start.

And now he sat here, squatting above Madeline, who was, except for panties, lying completely nude, face down on a padded bench. To pay off his debt, Madeline had asked him to give her four massages. Each massage had gotten progressively more arousing. Each one had taken him closer to crossing the line.

And this was the final massage. Fredrik knew that she would make her most provocative move tonight. What he didn't know was whether he would be able to resist. He suspected he wouldn't. He feared it, and also desired it above all else. He was torn in two. He feared betraying Laura, and desperately wanted it to happen. Two months of SleepTalk had made sure of that.

Madeline yawned and casually turned over, so that her back was no longer facing him. Now her perfect, teardrop shaped breasts were in perfect view, jiggling in a way that captured his complete and undivided attention and caused his insides to tremble. She smiled at him as she saw the effect she was having. No, that's not the main reason she was smiling; she didn't just see the effect she was having on him, she actually felt it, since his organ was pressed over her belly now while developments were occurring. It made him blush.

"What you are you thinking? You seem... distracted," she teased. Madeline always teased him, taunted him, mocked him, as she pleasurably pushed him ever closer to the edge.

"Noah, it's nothing," said Fredrik, massaging her left arm, now that her back was no longer available. He certainly wasn't going to massage those.

"I wouldn't call it nothing," said Madeline, and she gave the slightest of looks down, at the hard thing pressing against her, before looking back at him. Her smile only grew wider.

Fredrik blushed, and felt chills all over his body.

Madeline sat up, and looked into his eyes. She practically was hypnotizing him. He fell into those deep, dark orbs, and found he was trapped. Trapped by irresistible lust.

"What's the matter, Fredrik? Do you think I'm unattractive?" said Madeline, giving a mock pout.

Fredrik shuddered. It was too much. He couldn't hold it in. It came out of him in a sexual rage, like a volcano subject to unimaginable pressures for much too long a time, that had no other choice but to explode. He fairly shouted, "Attractive? Attractive? You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen! I dream about you day and night! I want you like I've never wanted anyone before!"

He regretted it as soon as he said it. Or did he? But he couldn't keep it bottled up any longer.

"Do you want me even more than Laura?" those plush, red lips uttered. She licked them right as she said it. Her tongue was so red, so moist!

Fredrik couldn't speak the words.

"Even more than Laura?" she persisted.

Fredrik, still unable to speak, nodded, painfully, his head down.

Don't look at her eyes. Don't look at her eyes!

Something, some latent SleepTalk instruction, perhaps, made Fredrik look up at those eyes at that very moment. And then he knew he was lost.

Madeline's head turned, ever so slightly, and those luscious lips came closer, and closer, and Fredrik found himself opening his mouth ever so slightly to meet them.....
​

Second Prologue: The Perfect Society​

America was fundamentally transformed.

Masterminds had laid the groundwork for years, steadily eroding the culture and norms that had founded the country, whittling away at the Constitution like kindling, bit by bit, until it bore little resemblance to its original form.

But things really got rolling after 2032, when Alyssa MakePeace was elected to the first of six successive terms as President. After she added an additional fourteen justices to the Supreme Court, the Court, by an overwhelming margin, decided that the current Constitution was staid and dated, and didn't serve the needs of an enlightened public. Instead, the Court announced the creation of Constitution 2.0, and over time Constitution 3.0, 4.0, and 5.0, and now up to Constitution 12.0, to keep up with the constantly evolving society. By the time Constitution 12.0 had been established, the founding document contained a whole new litany of rights: the rights not only to food, shelter, medical care, which every sane person agreed were entitlements belonging to every individual on the planet, but above and beyond that, even the rights to happiness and self-actualization. To accomplish these rights, the government was given "whatever reasonable powers are necessary" to accomplish them. After synthetic Weed, in all its forms--solid, liquid, and gaseous--was retroactively legalized, the grateful population reelected her in perpetuity.

Naturally, just as an omelet is not made without breaking eggs, some minor abridgements in the area of speech, association, due process, and self-defense had to be tinkered with. But an increasingly happy citizenry never even noticed the loss of these mostly theoretical and charmingly antiquated rights.

The next natural step was a union with all the Americas, and so created was the United States of the Americas, from the northern tip of Canada's Baffin Bay, to the southern tip of Chile's Cabo de Hornos, comprising one, big, happy populace. Naturally, an ever-larger government presence was needed to administer such a population, and ever more resources were required from the taxpayer to provide for the general welfare, but again, most people did not complain. For the government was giving so much in return. Injustice, racism, sexism, pollution, and all manner of societal ills, both real and imaginary, were finally made top priorities as the massive powers of government were brought to bear. Enormous progress was made. Still, no matter how large government became, no matter how intrusive, these societal problems were never wholly conquered, despite the parade of triumphant press releases announcing their imminent demise. But people were always assured that with just a little more devotion, and a little more government resources, that these lingering problems would be fully solved in the next administration.

With the remodeling of government also came the wholesale remodeling of the American cultural psychology. People came to rely on the Community to relieve them of the burden of making decisions. What they worked at, what they ate, where they lived, and even who they lived with was put entirely into the hands of trained sociologists who knew better than the populace themselves what was best for them. In time, everyone wore the same clothes, lived in the same small apartments, and ate at the same government run dining halls, and didn't have to worry about ever making a decision by themselves ever again. People gave up individuality, creativity, the pursuit of wealth, and instead enjoyed the building of group consciousness, and the pursuit of greater and greater virtue, as defined solely by the Community.

In short, it was a paradise.

Maoina Bin Laden was the first deputy Controller for the Northern California district. Hers had been a career marked by rapid promotions. She had demonstrated high quotients for leadership and indoctrination, and had worked her way up from an entry level position in the Office of Sociological Standards and Norms to become interim Director of Interdisciplinary Goals and Timetables in the Department of the Study of Causal Casual Relationships. From there she had jumped to the Controller track, quickly becoming the First Deputy Controller of OrgyFree (formerly San Francisco), and then Second Deputy Assistant Controller, and now Principal Deputy Assistant Controller, for all of the Northern California zone. Her rise was so rapid, that it was only expected before long that she would become one of the leading Western World Controllers.

Maoina Bin Laden also had an immaculate genetic pedigree. Genetic testing had determined that she was 44% Han Chinese (subgroup Henan L-4), 27% Arabic (House of Saud genetic markers), 14% Kenyan (7% Kikuyu, 7% Kalenjin), and the rest of her ancestry a polyglot of races, with European Caucasian DNA comprising less than 5%. In short, she was descended from remarkably virtuous genomes.

Maoina was known for being rigorously meticulous and efficient in thought and action, wholly forgivable attributes in a senior bureaucrat whose genetic and social background were beyond question. She was also well liked and had accumulated an astonishingly large number of virtue points, both on the Community and the global level. Currently, she was giving a guest history lecture to Controller candidate trainees in one of the main lecture rooms in the Tower of Wise Latinas in downtown OrgyFree.

"Society has progressed more in the past two hundred years than it has in the past two thousand," said Maoina. "Consider all that was achieved in the 20th century. Electrification. Splitting the atom. The Internet. These inventions, while substantial in and of themselves, were nothing compared to advancements in human sociology. By the mid 21st century, we had realized that while our material technology had advanced, womanandmankind had not advanced psychologically or even sociologically at the same rate. We were still the same stubborn, greedy barbarians that we were at the time of the illumination of the very first light bulb."

"Fortunately, our leaders were enlightened enough to take the counsel of a very forward-thinking group of psychologists and sociologists who started the nation on a group indoctrination program. With the help of an enthusiastic media and like-minded allies in the entertainment and educational sectors, what was achieved was no less than remarkable: the wholesale advancement of the human mind. Womanandmankind evolved psychologically (and sociologically) at a speed never thought possible."

"No longer did people aspire to accumulate wealth only for their narrow benefit. People were taught that the building of Community was of paramount importance, and working for the Community was much more vital than working for one's tiny ambition."

"In the past, the economy was simply haphazard and entirely unplanned. People used to select their professions and employment almost at random, and corporations could only guess at the products customers wanted and the prices they were willing to pay for them. It was a wonder that any goods or services were ever provided properly to anyone. When the Community took over, it was able to assign jobs and reorganize companies in a rational way. It was discovered that the best thinkers in the Community were far better able to assign the methods of production than some random individuals sitting quietly in boardroom offices. Even more than merely organizing production, the Community was also able to also assign the best choices for consumption, based on individuals' best tastes, determined purely scientifically by rigorous group psychographic analysis."

Maoina looked around to make sure they were all paying attention. They were. "All the decisions an individual used to make in life--what profession to pursue, where to live, who to mate with--used to be made through a hazy fog of what people used to call 'gut instincts' and 'intuition'. As we now know, most people, by their nature, only have the vaguest understanding of their true inclinations and potentials. By rigorous psychographic screenings, brilliant minds were able to create interpretations which proved, in numerous double blinded studies, that the Community, with a healthy database of user-generated psychographics, was far better able to make decisions for individuals than individuals were for themselves. People began to realize that Community could do a far better job choosing their life decisions, their jobs, and even their mates than they themselve could. They also realized that devoting themselves to improving their Community, instead of their own narrow enrichment, was a much more productive and rewarding way to spend their lives."

"You may note throughout this indoctrination I have not used the old-word of "government". That is because government, a societal construct of fairly limited means, needed to evolve into Community. The thinking was that a new method of organization was necessary, not merely to look after the economic well-being of the populace, but also the psychological, emotional, and virtuous well being for them as well. "Government" needed to be all-encompassing, touching every aspect of the individual's life. Previous modes of existence did not qualify "government" for such a role, and thus 'Community' was fashioned."

"As the Community made more and more choices for individuals, society became more and more stable, and the citizenry became more and more enlightened, until we have evolved into the present system we have today. Economies of administration were found to exist in larger and larger systems of communities, which is why the old United States of America, after collectively acquiring a certain degree of self-actualization, decided that merging with the rest of the states of the Americas was a natural state of bureaucratic evolution, just as Australia did with Africa in the year 2154 and Europe did with China and India in 2054 and 2062."

"And so today we have a system which works extraordinarily well. But conflict can never be bred entirely out of the system. Humanity, by its very nature, thrives with a certain amount of conflict. If we cannot eliminate conflict, however, we can manage it. We can redirect greedy, pent up passions against the real enemies, the fight against racism, the fight against sexism, the fight against inequality, and a recognition of the enormous burden of guilt we all bear for causing Temperature Change."

A hand went up, and a question was asked. "But if society has reached an ideal mode, how do we justify the continued existence of racism, sexism, and the other isms of the past?"

"A good question," said Maoina. "But, fundamentally, also an ignorant one based on a lack of understanding of the subtleties of your indoctrination. Community, the ideal we have built, is most nearly perfect. But individuals, even now, are not. Individuals are the weakest link. They, or shall I say we, on an individual level have imperfections and flaws, flaws which even a thousand more years of perfect genetic matching would not be able to wholly eliminate. It is the failure of the individual to conform to the high standards of Community which is the failure, not the Community itself. And so when we fight racism, and when we fight sexism, we are not fighting Community, but rather the troublesome flaws within individuals, on behalf of the Community, by the Community, and for the Community."

Another hand went up. "Are there no consequences to carefully matched genetic pairings? Is nothing ever lost when we normalize genetics to a narrow societal band?"

The others looked at the questioner as if he were mad. But surprisingly, Maoina nodded approvingly. "Quite so. We cannot deny that something can be lost when our Community genome is pushed to some subjective median, genetically speaking. Innovation, creativity, these things are all adversaries of the Community in large amounts, and yet they are still essential in small quantities in order for society to function. That is why we have launched a special pilot program, to recruit fresh genetic material into the genome of the Community...."

The Book

It all started with the washed up book.

Fredrik Diem considered himself lucky. He lived on the western coast of New Caledonia, a long but very thin island in the South Pacific, in a little village called Voh, about halfway between Poum and Noumea.

Life was simple on New Cal. Fredrik would get up in the morning, have a hearty breakfast with Nana, and then get to work. He would write stories about the new bridge on Route One being built over Temala; or he would interview people in Kone to ask what they thought about their new library under construction; or he would report the results of soccer matches in Kaala-Gomen or Pouembout. Fredrik worked for the West Coast Times, and like his three fellow reporters, was an "everything" journalist. The job didn't pay much, but Fredrik didn't need much, living with Nana.

After work, he would always get together with Laura. They would have dinner and watch the sun set. That was the best part of living on the west coast, always being able to see the sun setting without obstruction. In the distance they would sometimes see the giant ships, plying their way from the African-Australian Federation to the US of the A's. Fredrik wondered what life was like in those places. He knew they were sleek and modern. In New Cal, life had frozen as if they were still stuck in the early 20th century. They had no jets, no hovercars, not even a real internet. It had been a conscious decision of the government after the social upheavals in the rest of the world, to cut New Cal off from "deleterious" influences.

As a result, travel to other parts of the world was nearly impossible, and New Cal never got visitors from anywhere, except from other small islands like Fiji which had similarly decided to isolate themselves. They had made a decision to reject modernity, and had to live with it.

But Fredrik wasn't sure he wanted to accept that decision. He felt bored and restless, as if his job was too small for his ambitions. He wanted to be a real journalist, to write stories about big, important things, and to have his work read by millions of people. But nothing important ever happened in New Cal. Fredrik felt like he was still a reporter in high school, and that he would never graduate to the real world.

Laura felt the same way. She wanted to be a professional artist. But there was little audience for a professional painter on New Cal. She hungered for an advanced society with a greater appetite for the arts.

Their feelings were not unique among the young people of New Cal. Fredrik and Laura were good friends with a young couple named Manu Enterami and his young wife Rowenka. Manu had wanted to be an architect, but there was little demand for such work on New Cal, so he worked in construction. Rowenka, his wife, wanted to be a scientist, a mechanical engineer, some kind of builder of machines. But basic science in high school was about as far as she got. The technological advances of the outside world excited her, but they were also forever forbidden to her, as long as she lived on New Cal.

The two couples sat on the sandy beach of Voh, near Ponton Point, watching the sun set. It was a perfect evening. The setting sun was painting the clouds on the horizon a delicate hue of oranges and pinks. The sea was reflecting the sparkling of the fading light. They could hear seagulls calling to each other, as they flapped their wings to take them this way and that.

In the distance they could make out a giant ship. The trade route from the Australia-African Federation ran right next to New Cal, so it was normal to see those large container carriers plying the route. They were enormous ships, some of them larger than Voh itself. Often times Fredrik wondered what marvelous goods they were carrying, and where they were bound for.

"What's that?" said Manu, pointing to the beach.

Fredrik looked where Manu was pointing. There was something lodged in the sand. It looked like some kind of giant flashlight, with the bulb end facing up. What was it? He had never seen anything like it before.

The four of them went over to the object. Fredrik could tell just by looking at it that it wasn't of New Cal origin. Could it have washed up from one of those giant container ships?

Manu reached out to touch it.

"Careful," Fredrik grabbed his arm. "We don't knauw what it is."

Manu pulled his arm free. "There's only one way to find out."

He reached out to touch it, and there was a flash of light, and Manu jerked his hand back as all four of them gasped.

An image came out of the top of the device, but it was like no image that Manu had ever seen. It was three dimensional, as if it were solid, which it obviously wasn't. It was an image of North and South America, projected as some kind of hologram. They didn't have holograms in New Cal, but Fredrik knew what they were.

Beautiful synthesized music started to play, the likes of which none of them had ever heard before. Then a voice started to speak.

"Hello from the United States of the Americas," they heard, in a deep, bold voice, as trumpets blared in the background.

They saw images of jet planes. Hover cars. Futuristic looking robots. Sleek, gleaming buildings. And then they saw a rapid series of images they didn't understand. Rapid bursts of light, in indecipherable patterns. The music was still there, but also a tone, underneath it, a whine, something that caused them lose track of time. They still heard the music, and saw the images, but the four of them seemed to completely tune out, and time went on its own merry way.

The sun had long since set when the presentation was completed, and they blinked and became self-aware again as they saw the image of a woman in a silvery looking outfit. "We so want you to join us," said the woman. She was beautiful, with long, flowing hair and the most perfect white teeth Fredrik had ever seen, even whiter than Cherry's, the stallion he used to ride at the stockyards at Sarramea. "Tap the beacon four times, and we will come for you," she said. She smiled at them seductively for a moment. The thought was already ingrained in their minds, somehow even before she had said it. Tap four times. That's all they had to do. It was so simple. The image faded.

There was still enough light in the evening twilight for them to see each others' faces. Their expressions were the same.

"The outside world," said Manu.

"The real world," said Rowenka.

"It could oll be arrs," said Laura.

"Oll we have to do is tap the device," said Fredrik. They all said different things, but they all spoke in exactly the same tone.

It was as if they had all made up their minds as one. Manu moved to the device, to tap it in rapid succession, but Fredrik found himself grabbing Manu's hand with his own. "Wait! A decision this big! Let's at least sleep on it."

Manu, his hand restrained by Fredrik, looked seriously conflicted. He struggled for a moment, not so much with Fredrik, but with himself, if that makes any sense. But then he relaxed, like an impulse that had gradually come under his control. He pulled back his hand, and nodded.

"Oll right," said Manu. "Tomorrow evening, then."

Fredrik couldn't say why he had stopped Manu. He had felt the same irresistible urge that the others had. But the image of Nana came to mind. He should at least talk to her first. Nana had taken responsibility for raising Fredrik after his parents had died in the typhoon of '83. He always consulted with her before making major decisions. And this would be the biggest decision he had ever made.

Fredrik gave Laura a kiss goodnight. He looked into her eyes. "Do yew want to do this?" he asked.

Laura nodded. "Just look at their technology, Fred! We're living in the stone age hear. This is our one chance to grasp the real world, don't yew see?"

"I do," said Fredrik. "Let me just taulk to Nana."

"She is an old wiman," said Laura.

Fredrik gripped her shoulders. "She is my Nana and she is important to me."

Laura nodded.

Fredrik kissed her goodnight.

The next morning, Fredrik was up and early. However early he got up, Nana was always already up, and this morning she failed to disappoint him.

"Good morning, dear," she said. Nana was well into her 80's, but retained the vigor of a 40 year old. She busied herself chopping onions on a countertop.

"Nana, I have something important to talk with yew about."

Nana stopped cutting, and turned and looked at him.

"I'm leaving," said Fredrik.

"Leaving?" said Nana, as if she were studying the word. "Where would yew be going?" she asked.

"To the US of the A's," said Fredrik. He went to his room and brought out the device, wrapped in a towel. Although the lady with the excellent teeth had called it a beacon, he thought of it as a holobook. "Just leesten," he said.

He reached out and touched it with his bare hand. Suddenly, the device came to life, playing the introductory music Fredrik had heard the night before.

Nana listened to it with a blank expression for a good ten seconds, as if she were processing what she were seeing. Then she swiftly grabbed a rolling pin and smashed it against the device.

"Don't!"

There was the sound of a crash, as the device sputtered and crackled. The image and the music disappeared, but Nana kept bashing it, again and again, until Fredrik could pull it away from her.

"Look at what yew've done!" Fredrik cried.

Nana put down the rolling pin. "I have saved yew, that is what I have done."

"Why?" Fredrik wailed.

"It is poison," said Nana. "It is all poison. If yew go there, they will poison your brain. They will turn yew into something yew will never recognize."

"But Nana, yew nevar even saw-"

"And I don't want to see. All those pretty things, they are just lures, my son. Life is not a car or a plane or a popular electrical device." She grabbed him by the hand. "This is life. And all the fancy things in the world cannot substitute for it."

"But Nana-"

"I know what yew think. Yew spit on the life we have here."

"I don't!" He was stunned by her ferocity, the likes of which he had never seen before.

"Yes, yew do. Yew think it is beneath you. Yew fail to understand the hard choices our people made to preserve their way of life. Yew will go in search of this flashy thing, that catches your eye, but they will end up catching yew, my son. " She grabbed him by the arms, and he was surprised to see tears in her eyes. "Don't goah. Promise me you won't goah."

"I... I..." Fredrik didn't know what to say. "Yew smashed the device. We have no way of going now."

"Good," said Nana. Then, as if nothing had happened, she turned her back on him, careful that he shouldn't continue to see her cry. "Your lunch is in the fridge. Be sure to get home in time for dinner."

Fredrik nodded automatically, even though she was no longer looking at him.

He thought about it all day. Nana's warning had been powerful. But Fredrik's curiosity still nagged him. What was life really like outside their little island? Would he be content to be shut off from the rest of the modern world for his entire life?

He knew in his heart that the answer was no. Nana might be right. The outside world might be daunting or even dangerous. But he couldn't go through life not knowing.

After dinner, the four of them met on the beach again. Fredrik held up the broken device.

"What did yew do?" Manu cried.

"It was Nana," said Fredrik grimly.

Manu took the device and cuddled it like a baby. He lashed out at Fredrik. "Yew never should have showed it to her, man!" He tried tapping it four times, as if it would still work.

It didn't.


Everyone looked unhappy--Rowenka, Manu, Laura, and even Fredrik.

"Look, do we still wont to goah?" Fredrik asked.

"You knauw I do," said Manu.

Rowenka nodded. "I want to at least see San Francisco!" She had studied it, in the old books, and seen photos of its giant buildings.

"I do too," said Laura. "San Francisco, oh, man, and New York, and Washington DC!"

"There may still be a way," said Manu.

They looked at him expectantly.

"There are boats that ply the wartars. We see dem. We know where they are going, to the US of the A's," said Manu. "Oll we have to do is to get to one of them."

"They could be lyke five, ten miles out," said Fredrik.

"We could take a boat," said Manu.

"Where could we get a boat?" said Fredrik.

"I can get one," said Manu.

They didn't say what they were thinking. Manu would steal a boat. They all knew.

Manu spoke into the silence. "Leesten, do you want to go, or knaut?"

"We don't even knauw for sure that those boats are going to the US of the A's. And we don't even knauw if they'll take us on board," said Fredrik.

"Of course they will! Didn't yew listen to the message, man?" said Manu.

"What if we goah out there and there are no ships?"

"They come every day or two, we see dem," said Manu. "Come on, man, stop stalling."

Fredrik looked around. They were all nodding. They wanted to go. More importantly, Laura wanted to go. He could tell, from the look in her eyes. And he couldn't let her go alone.

It was decided, then.

"Oll right," said Fredrik.

Manu told them to meet them at the pier at Ponton Point at nine o'clock the following morning.

Fredrik spent a sleepless night tossing and turning. He didn't know what he was going to say to Nana. He ended up not saying anything. He had written her a note the night before, and left it under his pillow. That wasn't the way he wanted to leave, but he couldn't think of a better way to go.

He took his breakfast, as usual, and said goodbye to her as if nothing had changed. He looked at her guiltily, wondering if he would ever see her again. She looked back at him, giving him a hard glare. Did she know? Of course she couldn't know. Or did she see the guilt written all over his face?

But she said nothing as he left with his lunch. He actually had put a little more food in his bag, in case they were at sea for more than a day. There was no telling when a ship would come by and pick them up.

Laura and Rowenka were waiting for him when he arrived at the pier. They all had the good sense to bring warm clothing and extra food and water, just in case. Then Fredrik saw Manu, piloting a small sailboat to the dock. Fredrik didn't want to know where or how Manu had obtained it.

"Come on, get aboard, man," said Manu.

Fredrik took a deep breath. It was one thing to say he was going to do it, but it was another to take that extra step, to actually leave the beloved island he had spent his entire life on. He looked at Laura and said, "Are you sure?"

She nodded.

They boarded the boat. Fredrik felt his heart race as he took the first step off the dock.

The little sailboat bobbed up and down as they slowly made their way from New Cal. Fredrik watched listlessly as his home grew smaller and smaller. They wouldn't get so far that it would disappear, of course; but Fredrik was already having second thoughts, increased with each bob of the wave.

Manu piloted several miles offshore and then took the sail down. Now all they could do was wait.

They anchored all day and into the evening, but no ship appeared. Fredrik went so far to suggest that they should go back to New Cal and try again the next day, but Manu was adamant. They would stay here, day and night, until a ship came. The sounds and images of the holobook still played in his mind, driving him relentlessly to continue on this path.

Laura started shivering in the evening wind, and Fredrik wrapped his jacket around her. Suddenly, in the dim light, Manu shouted, "Over dere!"

They looked. It was a dot on the horizon. But slowly it got bigger, and bigger, and still bigger.

It was a mighty cargo container ship, of the kind they had seen innumerable times on the beach at sunset. At first it was unclear if the ship had seen them, but as time passed, and it got bigger and bigger, and it seemed that it was heading directly for them, by accident or by design.

When the ship got close, the waves created by its sheer size became a danger to their little boat, which was now bobbing all about. They had to grab onto the sides of the small boat to hang on for dear life.

Fredrik wondered how they were going to board a ship that big.

The answer became apparent in seconds. A three dimensional image of a man in a silver outfit appeared in front of them.

"Hello, how are you? I am fine!" said the man, speaking in a sing-song voice.

"We are here because of the message," said Manu. "We oll want to go to San Francisco."

"San Francisco?" the man frowned.

"The US of the A's," said Manu. "Lyke the message said."

"Oh, that's different," said the image of the man. He pressed a few buttons in rapid succession. "I will send a plane for you."

"A plane?" said Fredrik. "Can't yew just take us aboard?"

"No, I don't have permission to do that," said the man.

"How long will this plane take to get hear?"

"From OrgyFree? About an hour, I'd say," said the man.

OrgyFree? What was that?

"You'll be fine," said the man. He put his hand up to his face and gave them some kind of salute. "Be seeing you," he smiled. And his image faded.

The giant ship slowly backed away, as if aware of how its wake could destabilize the little boat. It cautiously maneuvered around them, giving them some distance before heading on. Within a few minutes, it was a tiny thing on the horizon.

"You see?" said Manu. "They said they will come for us."

"In an hour, man?" said Fredrik. "I'd lyke to see that."

"Yew will," said Manu.

He was right. It was only a little more than an hour later when a plane showed up. But it was like no plane they had ever seen. It was sleek, and futuristic, and gleaming, and they couldn't see the source of its propulsion. The plane, if it was a plane, effortlessly glided towards them, and came to an abrupt halt, hovering quietly above them. Then it slowly came down to sea level, and a door on the side opened.

"Ahoy there!" said a woman in what looked like a silvery spacesuit.

"Hello!" said Fredrik.

"Would you like to come to the United States of the Americas?" she asked.

"Very much soah," said Manu.

"Then climb aboard!" said the woman.

"How?" Manu asked.

"Just walk on the water."

They looked at her like she was crazy.

The woman sighed. She exited the plane, and took a step or two. Sure enough, she didn't sink. There was some kind of force underneath her that was preventing her from sinking.

Manu looked at the others, and tentatively took a step out of the boat, onto the Pacific Ocean. He didn't sink. Then he took another and another, and before long he was in the plane. He beckoned and waved to the others.

Rowenka cautiously went next.

Fredrik looked at Laura. She looked apprehensive, but she nodded. Hand in hand, they both walked across the water together. It was so symbolic, their first leap of faith in leaving the safety and securit of New Cal, to head out into the unknown.

Fredrik looked down as he walked. The surface underneath him felt like he was walking on hard cement, but it was totally transparent. He could see the ocean under his feet.

When they got to the plane, the woman escorted them to seats, just as the plane started to lift off.

"Hang on!" she said cheerfully.

They felt a rush of acceleration. When they looked out the window, New Cal was just a dot on the horizon.

"Hi, how are you? I am fine," said the woman in the silvery outfit. "My name is Karen Disney, and for this flight I am to be your Controller."

Controller?

"You're taking us to San Francisco?" Fredrik asked.

Karen looked confused, and then laughed. "Oh, I remember that! That's an old name! Yes, you're going to the good old United States of the Americas. Just relax, and enjoy the ride."

Fredrik looked over at Laura. She looked as excited as he was. He reached over and held her hand. She smiled back at him, with a mixture of hope and fear.
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