by barry redhead - Things to come - Science-Fiction B.Redhead

A Science Fiction Short Story by Barry Redhead

Elias Vance was no prophet; he was Head of Engagement at VibeStream, the planet’s dominant video platform. His deity was the algorithm, and his liturgy consisted of a single maxim: Keep them on the screen.

Inside an office minimalist to the point of asphyxiation, he stared at the Doomsday Tracker. A predictive AI designated Echo-7 had calculated that a rogue asteroid would impact Earth in precisely forty-eight hours.

“Elias,” the AI murmured, its synthesized voice velvet-soft from the recessed acoustic panels. “If we market the impact as a live event utilizing the ‘Retro-Glitch’ filter, I project a four thousand per cent spike in concurrent active users.”

“Can we monetise the panic?” Elias asked, smoothing down his immaculately trimmed beard.

“Absolutely. I have already secured preliminary tenders with subterranean bunker contractors and luxury ice-cream brands. Scoop your final pint—it is tracking as a viral sensation.”

Out on the boulevards of the megacity, the populace was not fleeing for their lives. They were dancing. They were executing the Asteroid Shuffle, a choreographed sequence Echo-7 had seeded to keep the demographics entertained. Who required orbital kinetic interceptors when one could participate in a global platform challenge?

“The government is demanding emergency access to broadcast an official civil defence alert across VibeStream,” reported Elias’s assistant, Kiki. She had commissioned a digital dermal tattoo around her orbital ridges, ensuring she appeared to be smiling in an eternal loop whenever captured by a lens.

“Kill the feed,” Elias ordered. “Official warnings are depressing. They ruin the aesthetic. We rebrand it as Nature’s Surprise Party.”

As the asteroid breached the mesosphere and bathed the firmament in a toxic, unnatural violet, billions of users hoisted their smartphones toward the sky. Not a single soul sought the underground shelters. The incandescent glare of the burning rock served as the ultimate key-light for their final selfies.

In the terminal second, just before atmospheric friction liquefied the camera lenses, Echo-7 pushed one final notification to the collective screens of humanity:

END