2132

1. 2132


2132
by Debbie Kean
and Leon Brooke
7th November 2009


Below lay Tokyo; the plane swooped over, and it slowly caught up with time again. The digits wavered, clearing and there on the screen was the legend, January 1, 2116.
Victor took up his pen and with a flourish, appended his signature to the most important document he had ever signed. Green ink in defiance of auditors everywhere, a great leaping looping scrawl of a name:
Victor Shapovalov, Director
He scanned the document and, as the plane swept in to land at Narita Airport, transmitted it for the world to see.
*****
Years later, but not too far away, on the 1st of January 2132, Marina Shapovalova celebrated her majority. Her grandfather's signature, 16 years earlier, transmitted around the world, had made hers possible on another world as she acknowledged coming into her inheritance.
A breath-takingly lovely young woman, thought Laura Jenson, her secretary, who by contrast was a strikingly plain one. All they had in common were bright blue eyes and keen intelligence.
Marina the Rebel signed the document acknowledging her descent from the world's most controversial scientist, and with a breath, cut her birthday cake. No going back now.
The party was being held in a cavern with artificial gravity, one of a few, accessible only to large amounts of money, and the holders thereof. The secretary sipped champagne and balanced a plate of cake while she studied the young woman in front of her, the woman who embodied all her efforts for the last ten years.
“Do you think old Victor knew what he was doing, Ms Jenson?” someone asked, breaking the silence.
“He always knew, they say.” Laura turned her face towards the man at her elbow. “I never knew him, I've only been here a few years.”
“You're his daughter-in-law though, and Marina's aunt.”
“Former daughter-in-law, and so, what of it? I don't know any gossip, if that's what you're after, Mr...?”
“I'm not a gossip columnist Laura.” the man shook his head. “I need to ask you something.”
“Well, make an appointment.” She smiled absently, and signalled a passing waitress, said something in Russian, and gave gesture of dismissal the man had to recognise.
“This evening?” he murmured, and Laura shrugged, her attention on the party and on the girl it was all for.
*****
Laura left the party as soon as she decently could, going to her office and locking the door. She shrugged off the gown circumstances had forced her to wear, and gratefully pulled on a skirt and jacket. Parties like this one were part of being a Famous Family, and Victor Shapovalov's was one of the most famous of these days. This was the man whose inventions had enabled the Lunar Colony in the first place, a revolutionary who changed the world.
Laura herself had gained a portion of the inevitable wealth that had led to, but more usefully, influence over the use of the rest. All she had had to do, was marry the old man's only son, and outlive him, which was easier than it sounded.
There was more to it of course, and the time had come to clue Marina into that, but there was time enough for that tomorrow. Her plans were close to fruition, so much waiting, no need to rush things now.
She picked up her phone, and entered a number, then changed her mind and dialled another, as a 'ping' at the door signalled someone wanting to come in.
“Who is it?” she called, snapping the phone shut with a start.
“John Morgan.”
“Should I recognise that name?” she activated the spy-eye outside the door. The man at the party, who'd spoken to her. Who else?. She sat down at the desk, and activated the door control, allowing him to enter.
“This is 'evening'?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“What do you want? I'm busy.” Laura looked away with an impatient sigh.
“So I see. You were about to make a call?”
She swept the phone into a drawer, and gave a smile. “Tell me, Mr Morgan, why do you need to talk so badly that you couldn't make an appointment?”
“I am no gossip columnist.” his face hid, unsuccessfully, his annoyance at her previous accusation.
“So I guess.” She smiled. “So, who are you?”
“I'm an engineer. I've come from Australia, and I used to work for Diana Mallory at the plant there.”
Laura blinked. “So?”