A Science Fiction Story Told in Instalments
Hercula and the Golden Hydra: One: A Science Fiction Short Story
Golden Hercula
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Welcome to the tales of Hercula, a renegade soldier.
Times have changed. The galaxies are run by seven massive Artificial Intelligences, who like to be thought of as gods. Following a devastating tragedy, guided by the Artificial Intelligence, Brimstone, Hercula has reluctantly agreed to take on ten tasks for FreezyWater, the unsavoury owner of Cellophane Asteroid Station. Following her recent triumph with the Terracotta Dragon, Hercula will next face the Golden Hydra, a creature bringing ‘solace’ to the elderly on a distant world.
Hercula is a novel in instalments. The next next instalment is here.
GOLDEN HERCULA
Hercula watched as the droid craft bot poured the liquid gold into the moulds. She itched to have a go herself. But she couldn’t be bothered to download the necessary guild skills.
“Here’s some I made earlier,” said Cyril the crafts bot, laying down the coins in the moulds. “They turned out well.”
“Thanks, Cyril.”
“I’ll put these in the back to cool,” said Cyril, extending his graspers onto the newly poured tray.
“Cheers Cyril,” said Hercula. There was something fascinating about the coins, something compelling.
Cyril twisted at his waist joint and rolled into the backroom with the tray of newly poured coins, leaving Hercula still admiring their newly minted sisters.
“Don’t you think it’s rather egotistical to create your own coins,’’ said Brimstone into Hercula's mind.
BRIMSTONE WAS ONE OF THE THIRTEEN ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCES THAT RAN THE GALAXY, MORE OR LESS.
“I don’t see why. Kings had them. And queens too, I suspect.’’
“Historically speaking, royalty were notoriously egotistical,’’ said Brimstone.
“Is that a fact?’’
“At one point in time, they were considered to be the link between man and god.’’
Hercula turned over the mould and the coins fell, new-minted and perfect onto a table covered in black velvet. ‘’Did kings used to speak to their gods?’’
‘’People believed so,’’ said Brimsone.
Hercula picked up a coin. ‘’It’s still warm,’’ she said. She turned the coin over in her hand. She smiled. ‘’Now everyone can speak to their gods.”
IT WAS TRUE MANY PEOPLE WORSHIPPED THE ALL-CONTROLLING ARTIFICAL INTELLIGENCES.
Hercula did not approve of this state of affairs. “No wonder everyone is so happy,” she said, sarcastically.
“Many people are happy, Hercula. Perhaps you could be too.”
“Happiness is not for me,” said Hercula.
“It may be, one day.”
“Never mind all that. What were we talking about, Brimstone, the last time we spoke?’’
“We were talking about ego.’’
“I like ego.’’
“Ego will hold you back, Hercula.’’
“Will it? How so?’’
“Ego makes you want things that aren’t necessarily good for you.’’
THE FACES OF HERCULA, GOLDEN AND RADIANT, RENDERED INTO METAL, RENDERED INTO GOLD, SEMI-IMMORTAL.
‘’I like the fact that these coins might be knocking about long after I’ve gone.’’
‘’Ego again.’’
“But I don’t understand, Brimstone. Everything I like is ego. Everything that brings me some small crumb of joy is ego. Ego is golden. Ego is good,’’ Hercula said, as she scooped up the coins, fifty perfect faces. Fifty golden Herculas. ‘’Ego is good.’’
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