Letters

by Mr. David R. Dorrycott

October 14^h, 2101 was a Friday. End of the school week, time to go home, complete my assignments, then spend the rest of my time lazing about. Oh I am not some crazed bookworm, nothing like it. It was just that mother had explained things very carefully when I entered first grade. “Your teacher will give you work to do over every weekend, every holiday” I remembered her saying. Or something very close to that. “You may either complete it first, then have the rest of your time free, or listen to your father and I as we bother you, ruining your fun. Then Sunday night you will hurry and complete it. I leave the choice to you, but I want you to think about it. Which way gives you the most time to do what you want to do?”

After a month I had discovered, in my super-intelligent six year old mind, that being bothered all the time ruined my games, ruined my entertainment and in general ruined my weekend. So I tried it the other way. Lo and behold, having the rest of the weekend without being bothered (other than the required non-school work and Church of course) was really great. So, my latest assignments carefully entered into my pad, I opened my locker. Of course another letter fell out.

As every Friday since the third week of school year there was a letter in my locker. These things were not unusual, I often had three of four such missives every week. Most all of the girls in school did. It was a part of growing up. Boys wanted to attract your attention. Some tried with sports, some with bluster, some with fancy air-cars. The smart boys used letters. Archaic devices, words on paper carefully folded into envelope shapes. As it was my last year in High School I was becoming an important target. That, and my high IQ scores. Like all schools, mine posted the yearly computer tests for IQ’s. Mine was 141. Not the highest in school, not even for the girls. But I had an advantage. I was pretty too. That made me prime wife material.

Like most girls with my grades, those who had already seriously looked at the economy, we knew the odds that Joe the Linebacker might be picked up for some college or university, then Professional Sports was pretty much zero. I was looking forward to either going to University, or joining the Space Forces. At the moment I really wasn’t certain which was better. University would almost guarantee me a ticket to high income, if I happened to graduate with the currently right one of about eleven classes of degrees. Teaching was a hot career now, but in six years would it be? Since the Government had realized that paying teachers less than garbage collectors simply meant that more garbage collectors would graduate, I could expect a starting salary near the six figure mark. If I graduated today. In six years maybe they would need more garbage collectors. It was, as dad often grumbled, a crap shoot.

I liked teaching, but having gone through school well knew that such a career required a special mindset. One I certainly did not have. One day I would pin little Johnny to a wall with a stake, and that was really was frowned upon. Corporal punishment had returned to schools, but actually turning a child into plant food was still frowned upon. Even if some of the children really deserved it. On occasion. So teaching was out, and I really wasn’t interested in the business or medical professions. What I was interested in was Archeology, and that field paid less than Garbage Collectors. Too many Doctors of this, that or the other. Not enough use for them.

But the Space Force needed such people. They just couldn’t get them. After all, even with Fold drive one would be looking at twenty to thirty years passing on earth for every ten you spent in Foldspace. Then there was system and ground time, the time actually spent moving from Emergence to a planet, studying the planet, then traveling far enough away from the local star to fold out. It was a profession for single youngsters like me, not married men or women. Academy was four years as well, so my choices were four years in University learning something I didn’t like, or getting a degree in six years for something I did, and spending half my life asking “Would you like a soy-apple pie with that?” Not to mention student loans. Or guarantee thirty years of my life for a free education, and most of that life away from Earth. Which meant maybe sixty to ninety years passing on Earth. I would sign out at the ripe age of fifty or so, and everyone I knew would be long dead. Or in an old folks home, if they could afford one.

It really was a difficult choice. A bad job or minimal income, or a wonderful job, and complete isolation from my family. A very difficult choice. Still this was about the letter, not my future. With a shake of my head I picked up the envelope, all soft blue with a pale white diagonal stripe, along with the two others also in my locker. Then gathering my books I shoved everything in my backpack and headed for home. It was an hour walk, we lived within three miles of Bob Barker High School, so no public transportation for me.

As I walked I was joined by several of my friends. We all lived on the same street, and had been friends for years. In most cases that meant since first grade. Lois Underwood held up a rather fat packet of envelopes. “Eleven” she laughed. “How many Rose.”

I smiled back. “Three” I admitted. Lois was going for her M.R.S. right out of High School. Her parents had just too much income for her to get loans, too little to help her and not a high enough IQ for scholarships. It didn’t help that she weighed about thirty pounds too much, but most boys liked plump girls. The days of skinny was beauty had died seventy years ago. Skinny meant you were poor, or sick. Most times. “How many Elizabeth” I asked.

Elizabeth Ross looked up from skipping cracks in the sidewalk. “Two. Same two boys. Harry and Frank.”

She looked upset and I knew why. Both boys had no future, they were dead end kids. Barely above average intelligence and no drive to better themselves. Both would be in the military after High School, and considering the odds in France, dead within a week. There was oil under Pairs, and stupidly the French had refused to allow drilling. That had ended up with them being invaded by three countries, Poland, Germany and Belgium. Our treaties had dragged us and the bankrupt English in. Now the lines were almost exactly like World War One, and no one was ready to budge. A stalemate. One that was grinding up men and women at a horrible rate.

“I decided last night” Elizabeth continued, surprising me. “I’m going for my teaching credentials. Maybe I can attract someone other than football and soccer players.”

“Probably” Susan Lu agreed. “After all, there are like, two men for every woman now. We can choose, not like before the plague when it was way lopsided the other way. I’m thinking about the same thing. Or Academy.”

“Academy” Lois and Elizabeth echoed. “Space? But why?”

Susan gave me an odd smile before answering. “Lets just say that its kinda dangerous on Earth. We barely survived that Plague the Chinese released. Three out of four women died or were made sterile. Another plague would wipe us out. The whole Human race. So I might even join a colony after my thirty.”

“After thirty” Elizabeth repeated. “You could die in space. There’s a war out there too, remember?”

“Against the Xween. Who do not have Fold technology. They are limited to two, very close planetary systems and ram-jet technology. There hasn’t even been a shot fired since we stopped trying to make peace with them.“ She turned to me. “What about you Rose.”

“University or Academy” I admitted. “I want to be an Archeologist. On Earth, I’d have to take a second job just to make ends meet. But in Space I’d be away from my family for really long times.” I shook my head side to side. “It’s a really hard choice. I love my family, but I want something that is over-filled on Earth. I just don’t know.” Looking up I realized we were half-way home. Talking did shorten trips after all, and we had been talking a lot today.

“You two are nuts” Lois announced. “Its Earth for me, or Mars if I get to emigrate. No farther. At least I can send video messages home from Mars every day if I want too.”

“Most of the Space Force is in Solar” I reminded Lois. “But Fold sends you to a different dimension, time runs real strange there. So even a two year patrol mission through the system means six years pass on Earth.“ I shrugged, it was a fight I didn’t want to have. Neither did my friends. We had enough on our plate already. Between men fighting for the few available women (China had a civil war over the matter, nearly wiping themselves out) and scarce resources, life was already a bed of roses. Problem was, humans were in the thorns trying to work their way back to the flowers.

We were all aware of what the Chinese did. It had nearly wiped them from the Earth. A virus meant to sterilize one in three Chinese females. They never bothered to test it against any other race. Now life was about as hard as it had been in 1900, two hundred years ago. Oil was almost gone, water levels were up, flooding most of the Oriental factories. China had about a tenth of the population they once had. Factories were back on-line, but workers were in short supply. That meant less of everything. Latino’s had been crushed by the virus as well, their populations reduced to twenty percent of what they had been before the plague. That meant food costs were sky high. Just making it through High School meant backbreaking hours in home gardens. Earth was no longer a friendly planet.

I stopped at my house. “See you all Sunday” I asked. A general agreement followed before I went into my house. Set up for homework first, then a quick shower. Maybe I could finish my English assignment before supper. Our garden I dealt with after sundown, when it was cooler. Though without electric lights this time of year it did force me to be very careful.