My fellow SleuthSayer Art Taylor scores in the first issue of this new mystery fiction magazine, although a purist might say this one is more science fiction than mystery. Actually, it's both.
The narrator is a salesman, trying to convince a family to buy a restoration service. You see, they take a DNA sample and occasional brain scans, and then, if heaven forbid, you should die violently, they can whip up a clone of you in under a month, and family bliss is restored. Only violent deaths; the ethicists forbid interfering with natural exits. But, you know, there is so much violence these days.
The wife is all for it. The husband (and from the salesman's point of view, they have and need no other identities) is extremely dubious. Can our hero close the sale?
Here is our salesman explaining his work:
Discretion was key. And indirection. Euphemisms helped. You didn't talk about death at all, didn't even use the word, much less talk explicitly about the man who was shot in the eye while walking to lunch, or the woman who was tortured for hours before she was killed, or the children who...
No. Let the prospective clients put it together on their own.
I thought I saw where this story was going and I was totally wrong, which pleased me greatly.
Just saw this, Rob. Thanks so much for the kind words on the story! So honored to be included in the blog here. (I'll admit, I've always been kind of hoping one of my stories would be picked one day!) :-)
ReplyDeleteI love it when a plot fools me.
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