The following short story first appeared in the July, 2004 edition of SuperNews as "Blade Runner".  (My choice was Golf In 2044, but magazine editors will not be denied.)  It is a fictional piece dealing with one version* of how Golf could turn out. 

This is part of our current emphasis at Rockbottum CC on the future of golf, the economics of golf, the environmental aspects involved in actual operations as well as public image, GCS fitness and family time.  Future, Fitness, Fungicides, Family and Fiscal planning.  (That's a lot of F words, I may have missed a couple.)

*Note:  This is the typical warning often found in the writings of the common deluded futurist. 

Golf in 2044... Part One

The room slowly filled with soft red pulsing light.  One bleary eye opened and tried to focus on the wall screen.

"I apologize for waking you, Wen, but you know corporate monitors Golf Systems Manager response time for quarterly performance appraisal."  The voice was gentle and polite, neither fully male nor female, but still unsettling.  Wen had never gotten used to Fifth Phase Artificial Intel and the androgynous voices used by personal administrative assistant computers.

"Yeah, yeah," Wen growled as he reached for his pants.  "Time and situation report, please."

The big screen went black, with large white letters filling the upper left corner:  0358hrs.  13APR-2044-SAT.

The words SITUATION REPORT appeared, split into three separate video sources, showing robotic mowers, motionless on the golf course.  "Three of the fairway mowers experienced operational failure," the voice said, "and did not report back to the equipment center at end of shift."

"So?" Wen Bolton fell back into bed. "You woke me up for that?  Why didn't you just deploy a retrieval unit?"

"Systems followed standard procedure, Wen, but the retriever is experiencing the same shortened battery lifespan as the mowing units."

Wen rolled off the bed.  As his feet hit the floor the overhead lights slowly came up.  He knew there was more coming, and he wasn't sure if the computer was programmed this way or simply enjoyed building up to a big finish.

"What else?" Wen said as he pulled on yesterday's socks and stood.  "I know there's more, or you would have waited for Judd to come in at 0600."

"Screen position 4," the computer replied.  "NRM-7, that's a nocturnal laser rough-cutting unit, service date March 2029, has left the golf course."

"What?" Wen shouted as he ran toward the screen.  "Enhance! Enhance! Full-screen!" 

The big screen was filled with the sight of a robotic mower running helter-skelter through a formal garden.  Giant hybrid azaleas and dwarf pink dogwood bushes were strewn about, and thoroughly mulched tulips were beginning to pile up like snowdrifts.

"The perimeter disabler circuit appears to have been incapacitated," the simulated voice purred.

"No kidding!"  Wen stared at the video signal in shock.  This type of incident had suddenly increased in frequency.  It used to happen to other Golf Systems Managers in faraway places, but not here.  "Give me thermographic scan.  Any signs of injury?"

"Yes, a small dog was killed immediately upon the NRM-7 . . ."

Wen grabbed his shoes and pulled on a shirt.  "That's on the private side of the course--Mrs. Wenchel's garden--and her yappy little dog."  Wen's heart rate spiked as he hopped toward the door of his apartment.

"I have your coffee ready, Wen."

"Thanks. Can't."  Wen grabbed his portable computer headset and pulled the flip-down screen over his right eye.  He rushed out the door and into a waiting elevator.  "Have you notified tech systems?  Do we have a working disabler?  How do I turn that thing off if the disabler doesn't work?"

"Tech will be here at 0700.  We don't have a circuit override device.  There is no procedure in my files for deactivating the NRM-7, as it went into service before me."

Wen ran through the lobby, jumped into his personal golf vehicle and drove straight to the equipment center.  He knew disabling the NRM-7 would be difficult.  The older robotic mowers were designed to withstand vandalism, graffiti and sabotage.  Their access plates were well armored, to protect against the subversive, radical anti-golf groups that surfaced when robot workers like the NRM-7 first appeared.

CONTINUED...