King's County by James Carrick

suits, or blazers with patterned slacks. One of them
removed a flask from his cashmere jacket, took a swig, then passed
it. He pulled up his sleeve to check a large and complex square
wristwatch on a gray alligator band.
    "Obnoxious, innit?" said a man standing
beside me. He also wore a sort of suit but it was worn out at the
joints, rumpled and black with thin white pinstripes. His accent
was English. He was not young. He had a bunch of tall, wavy black
hair and held a cigarette in his thin fingers.
    "Who? Those guys or the act down
there?" I said.
    "Hahh, I don't even notice them
anymore. No, the morbid bunch on stage. You know what they’re
after?"
    "Attention of some kind, obviously. Are
they really going to kill themselves?”
    "No, well, it’s a symbolic thing, you
see. They're going to stop taking their longevity pills. They did
the same thing last year. Nobody remembers. They don't think
they're getting enough resources at the colony."
    "They're going to kill themselves if
they don't get more resources?"
    "Yes, something like that, rather
slowly. But there's nothing in particular that they want. They just
think the New York colony has it better. I guess they just want
what New York has, but I promise you nobody here has any idea what
that actually is...or what to do with it if they got
it."
    The main speaker onstage held his hand
out in front of him and turned his palm downward. Two small white
pills skittered onto the hard stage floor. Tears streamed down his
red cheeks.
    "Uh huh, so what happens when they
start getting older?"
    "Oh, they'll chicken out or probably
lose interest and forget to not take them after a few days. It
doesn't matter. I'm pretty sure we don't even need the pills
anymore."
    We left with the first act still in
progress to go for a walk. The drunk guys in suits followed and
passed, ignoring us, laughing and arguing with each
other.
    "Market traders." My new friend
explained and stopped to light a fresh smoke. "They’re always very
happy with themselves."
    "Traders? What could they possibly be
trading? I thought that sort of thing was obsolete."
    He looked sideways at me like I might
be putting him on,
    "Part of the game, fellow artist. They
don't win or lose."
    *
    Space 2070
    Hektor 624 was shaped like a peanut. It
was one of the bigger asteroids in orbit around the sun but was
much smaller than our moon. We were there to witness its demise and
much of the aftermath.
    Seven years earlier, three years in
advance of our launch, the computers on Earth had predicted the
collision. Hektor would collide with a small extra-solar asteroid
and then, with its orbit modified, it was projected to crash into
Jupiter.
    With a pill, we came out of our slowed
down state to watch. Ahead of schedule again, we could see nothing
of either of the asteroids yet.
    "Let's go back under the influence,
what do you say, Captain?" Ed said bringing out his southern
accent.
    "You don't think we’ll get in trouble?"
I said joking but still half serious.
    "Possibly, I suppose. Now, right now,
we’re in a stationery coupling. Over around that bend there it’ll
be coming but not for 30 hours and I'm about too talked and chessed
out to wait that long."
    He had pointed to Jupiter which hung in
the display as a multi-hued red circle, the size of a golf ball to
us, oddly contrasted against the flat blackness around it. Our
craft was locked onto Jupiter’s orbit at a constant distance which
would begin to decrease as the event approached. Hektor 624 was
coming toward us. 3731127MP was the smaller asteroid which we would
see coming from overhead.
    I convinced Ed the event would be
better experienced at normal speed and we could easily miss it by
slowing ourselves down.
    We waited quietly, not talking or
gaming. I remembered Moby Dick and got back into it.
    I tried to read, but could feel tension
building. Ed was pouting to himself. With no perceived motion, the
cramped cabin started for the first time to feel small. Bad
thoughts