The Shipping Forecast
Story by sirtalen on SoFurry
One of a series I've stories I've written over the years set on The Ring, a massive space habitat circling the Earth, built by a supercomputer that conquered mankind to save it from a predicted total environmental collapse. I've taken to calling it a "Uystopia" in a my head. Every human is comfortable, well fed, and has access to every luxury imaginable. But the price is that no human will ever set foot on the surface of the Earth again, and everyone is assigned a morph, an anthropomorphic robot shaped like an animal, to watch their assigned human every waking moment of every day to keep them out of trouble.
But sometimes what hurts the most isn't the loss of freedom, but of the familiar...
It had been a beautiful day yesterday.
It was going to be a beautiful day today
It was beautiful almost all the time, Moira reflected, as she wandered out onto the back deck of her house, a cup of decaf tea in her hand, her badgermorph Jamie staying politely by the patio door. She'd woken up again in the middle of the night, not even sure why, until she looked up at Lost Earth hanging huge in what passed for sky on the Ring.
Moira noted the cloud patterns swirling near Ireland. There were going to be storms on the coast soon, she was sure. Wild, angry storms lashing the beaches, and whatever remained of the ports after the Groupmind cleaned up Mankind's horrible messes. But only the birds and the animals would feel the storm's power.
Oh, to be certain, the Ring had weather. Its artificial seas acted as heat sinks, and moisture still rose and rain still fell. But there were no cold poles to draw up the heat, and the coriolis effect marched along the Ring's interior loop like a clockwork cloud. You could practically set your watch by the pattern of rain showers, and it never got cold enough to snow.
"Miss Moira, you should sleep,"Jamie chided gently. "You'll be a right mess in the morning otherwise."
"I know," Moira answered. "I just… couldn't sleep." She gestured up at Lost Earth, and its ever-changing clouds. "I just wish…" She frowned, thinking. "When was the last time I checked the weather?"
"Sixty-three days ago, Miss Moira," Jamie answered. "Not counting the occasional temperature check."
"I used to check it every day. I used to listen to it every night," she said, a deep feeling of loss suddenly running through her soul.
Jamie frowned in confusion. "Listen to it?
"Sure, the Shipping Report," Moira told him. "The weather out in the seas." She shrugged. "No need for it anymore. No ships in the oceans now, just the whales and the fish."
"Miss Moira, may I have your mobile for a moment?" Jamie asked. Puzzled, Moira pulled it out of the pocket of her robe and handed it over. Jamie stared at it for a moment, as he interfaced with its tiny computer, then handed it back to Moira. "This should suit your need."
Moira looked at the new icon on her phone's interface, and smiled. "Thank you, Jamie."
Ten minutes later she was asleep in bed, listening to the calm, steady tone reciting, "North Utsire. Westerly 4 to 6, occasionally 7 at first, becoming variable 4 or less. Moderate, occasionally slight. Thundery showers. Good, occasionally poor. South Utsire. Northwesterly 3 to 5, backing southwesterly 4 to 6, occasionally 7 later. Moderate, occasionally slight. Showers. Good, occasionally poor…"