Chamberlain rose from his walnut-framed bed. He was a thirty-two year old, blond man with gray eyes, solidly built and ruggedly handsome. His butler had already drawn the silk curtains, and a cup of espresso flavored with fresh cream and lemon peel, placed on his matching walnut dresser.
He pushed the first button embedded in his nightstand. The hovering computer screen facing his bed powered up, and his personal assistant Helena appeared on the 25 inch screen. Her skin was the color of tanned coconut, and she had blue eyes, with a wide nose and full lips. Her thick, black hair was pulled back in a bun.
The Free World Genetics Division was working on a formula to breed out dark skin and negroid features from the coming generations. Chamberlain smirked. I sure hope not. I like my meat dark... Still, that's not my call. Space Travel and planet colonization— now that's my specialty.
Helena's lips turned up in a professional smile. “Good morning, Mr. Paschal.”
He sipped his coffee. “Good morning, sweetness; what do we have on the menu today?”
“You're free until noon, sir. At 12 pm, you're having lunch with Senator Schuyler to discuss financing the experimental Probe flights.” Her smile widened. “And you're going to sell hard, because they're going to cost billions.”
Chamberlain scowled. “Despite the fact that we still need to find a planet to sustain human life —and an alien species willing to share. We know they're out there! But I swear they're running from us.”
Helena raised an eyebrow. “If you were them, wouldn't you run? I mean, we've destroyed our own ecosystem.”
“Careful baby, keep that kind of talk up and you won't get a raise.”
The secretary smiled flirtatiously and said nothing. She was extremely talented and they'd worked as a team for years. She could take liberties from time to time. True, there were hundreds he could replace her with, but it would take too long to train them; and she knew him better than he knew himself.
Good thing I'm too light to suit his taste, thought Helena.
Chamberlain grinned back. “Is that it?”
“No sir. At three you're meeting with General Pica, of Intergalactic Space Travel to inspect the experimental Probe ship technology and meet the new recruits.
“At 6:00 you have to meet with the head of Colonization and Earth Housing, Natalie. I don't have a last name for her.”
Chamberlain furrowed his handsome face. “Keep working on it...Is that it?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good deal. Find a suitable place for me and Schuyler to have lunch.”
Helena flashed her professional smile again. “I email the reservations to you within 30 minutes—along with the notes for your first meeting.”
“Helena, you're a doll.”
She chuckled. “Yes, I know.” The screen went dark.
Chamberlain pushed the second button on his nightstand. “Good morning, Mr. Paschal,” a voice on the intercom above the table responded.
“Good morning Darla, I'll be down in 30 minutes.”
“Yes sir. Breakfast will be ready.”
He stepped into the bathroom to the right of his bed for a shower. He finished, and emerged, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His suit, shirt and shoes were already lying neatly across a made bed.
Chamberlain dressed and headed downstairs through a spacious hallway to his dining room, where his breakfast of porridge, toast and eggs was waiting. It was, of course, still warm. He had a very efficient staff.
* * *
Chamberlain called his driver, Sammy, using his combination watch and wrist band. By the time he stepped outside, his sedan was in the circular driveway.
Sammy, a heavy set black man, got out and opened the door for him. “Good morning, Mr. Paschal.”
“Hello Sammy,” he slid inside.
“Where to sir?”
“Let's take a drive into the city.”
“Very good, sir.”
Sammy circled the driveway and drove the twenty miles through his gated community. Miles overhead a livid orange and black sky glared down on them through the dome ceiling. Once the chauffeur reached the exit, he keyed in the code. Double doors slid open to his left and right, and Sammy drove out. Immediately, a cloud of mutant bees swarmed over the car, and the chauffeur pushed another button on the dash: electrifying the car. Dozens of them were fried, and the rest flew off for less dangerous territory.
Chamberlain lived in a 30 room mansion. He had no wife, children and his parents, who'd both been scientists, were dead. But they'd been kind enough to leave him a hefty inheritance, and the keys to a burgeoning astronautics empire.
Which was very fortunate for him, because the Earth was dying.
The planet's waters were polluted (he had his decontaminated and shipped in). Ninety percent of the animal population was dead, and the rest were horribly mutated. The air was poison. And the weather...the weather was a miasma of storms, heat waves and solar flares—shifting from 50 degrees to 90 within the space of a day.
The rich, like him, lived in gated communities under domes. Their purchased oxygen was pumped in. Earthlings without jobs wandered the streets, panhandling, and squatting in deserted building—those that hadn't been already demolished.
Those with jobs also lived under domes, but in rooming houses with rationed water and oxygen; the rest of their earnings going toward rent and food. This was with the exception of a fortunate few like Helena who thrived as personal secretaries, chefs, maids, butlers...
And astronauts.
Space cadets were plucked and groomed from the age of 12 for their exceptional math and science abilities. By eighteen, they were eligible for Space academy training as pilots and technicians. Once they graduated they were given their pick of the finest dome apartments, and other niceties.
Astronauts were quite simply Earth's elite. For they held the future of humanity in their hands...
To be continued
Copyright Valjeanne Jeffers 2012 all rights reserved
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