Interview with Raymond Sky

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“But wouldn’t you agree? I mean, it’s like this unmissable open goal: the late twentieth century gave us a literary canon that is just teeming with what now seem like highly plausible visions of the present. All we have to do is bring a dash of cool, hard science to the party and bingo, there’s your little dent in the universe.”

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He takes an eminently satisfying gulp of prescription smoothie, still in awe at this discovery of his own bespoke brand of pronoia. Around him the setting sun softly illuminates the well rendered walls of the apartment. Cooling mists drift past the open window and proceed across the bay. Even the air itself has not escaped the ambitions of high design, lent an uncommon purity by the industry of a half dozen house plants adroitly positioned beneath the sill. All around is calm, which only serves to draw attention to the faint electric hum of neural activity in our speaker’s mind.

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On top of that, he ploughs on, who doesn’t want to be the master of their own universe? He knows his history, and he wouldn’t wish the early stages of human civilisation on anyone. Today’s amenity is yesterday’s luxury, and long may that continue. It’s about time we all shrugged off the wretched confusions of early capitalism and treated ourselves to an upgrade. It truly is within our power to maximise our potential, to see to it that the whole of humanity enjoys the trappings now afforded by the modern age. Collective will: that’s all that stands between us and escape velocity.

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A cursory glance around the room, perhaps privately wishing that cameras are rolling. They probably are. Eyes return to their audience, wide now, awaiting acknowledgement.

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“Exciting times indeed,” he concludes, as if these words are as insightful as those which came before. He liberates the last remaining nutrients from their narrow glass. “But anyway, enough about me and my little projects – what do you do?”