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Copyright

A Short Story by Shaun A. Saunders

Image by EyepilotX!!! | eyepilot13.deviantart.com

"She Came From Space"

FROM THE ARTIST:

Human and machine...ancient alien or sensual consumer? Who knows what the coming clathrates will tell us... The organick and elecktrick... Vapours and Aethres... War is Peace Love is Hate Animals and criminals In suits Tell me What to do $$$$$$$$$

Mm. Not bad at all, I thought as I lounged against the railing above the beach, gazing at the beauty who had just emerged from the surf. Lithe and tanned, she moved with a casual, languid grace, as though there was no other place for her to be but on the long-shadowed, morning beach. A slow-motion flick of neck and shoulders, and her jet black hair sparkled and shimmered as it cast off a spray of saltwater diamonds.
    

After one long, deep, breath, I decided to make a move. The newfound object of my desire was only about twenty metres away, so I’d have to think quickly. For a scant moment, I actually thought about ‘talking straight’ to her; you know, without protection. Just the thought of it was exciting. And then, when the conditioned fear responses should have taken over, I realised that she wasn’t wearing anything. Just a bikini, nothing more.
    

Heart pounding, I made a quick scan of the beach. No lifeguards on duty yet, and no one within earshot of what appeared to be our likely rendezvous point: one casually dropped towel halfway between myself and the approaching beach goddess. It would be risky, of course. If I openly approached her without protection, and she decided that she didn’t like the look of me, or that it simply wasn’t worth the risk, all it would take would be one scream: “Yes, your Honour, that’s right. He approached me unprotected and didn’t even wait for me to take precautions…after all, I’d just come straight out of the water.”
    

Damn, I thought: you only live once.
    

With no time to make it to the public access way, I clenched my jaw and vaulted over the railing. She must have seen my athleticism, because she stopped in her tracks a couple of metres from her towel and regarded me with one raised eyebrow. It was make or break time. Excited, I tried not to tremble as I removed the Copy-Guard™ band from my forehead. But then, free from its electronic snooping, I didn’t know what to say.   
    

The goddess didn’t mind. A ghost of a smile played across her face, and she accepted the challenge. Her lips parted and –
    

A passing voice called out, “Good morning to you both.”
    

The moment had been shattered by an early rising lifeguard.
    

The goddess pounced on her towel, and while she hurriedly slipped on her Copy-Guard™ band, I replaced mine.
    

Struggling, I subvocalised, ‘Ah, hi. Nice day. Do you come here often?’ And then, struggling as the Copy-Guard™ overrides chimed in my mind, ‘Love your hair...’
    

But the electronic censor would have nothing of it. A computerised conscience scolded, “‘Nice day’ is a registered trademark of the Good Oil Co. ‘Love your hair’ is copy protected by the Natural Hair Corporation.’”
    

“Oh Fuck!” I said aloud, breaking every copyright protocol.
    

“‘Oh Fuck’ is a registered trademark of Naughty Boy Inc. Unauthorised use…”
    

Haltingly, and with obvious sadness, the goddess said, “Good…bye…,” picked up her towel, and walked slowly up the beach. In the distance, seagulls squawked as they fought over food scraps, and I envied their freedom.

***

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