by Drew Cordell
“The texture might take some getting used to, but the flavor is quite exquisite,” he said, leaning in to watch me take the first bite.
With a moment of hesitation, I tore a large bite out of the eel and was surprised. The meat itself was actually quite good, but I was a little thrown off by the chewy texture. I figured Caeldra would have given me an earful for eating such a thing.
Jasper and I finished our meal, and he returned to fishing for scrap as I steered the boat around a wide bend in the tunneling. It was so strange someone could live like this, living a life of extreme solitude and disconnection from conventional technology. He had never known the city, life as a Thinker, or anything else from the streets of New York.
As Caeldra slept, we talked about River’s Port, technology, tales of legends, and debated the best way to cook eel. I was certain it would be good in a stew and that Mary could create something truly wonderful with the strange meat. Then my thoughts drifted solely to Mary, and conversation between Jasper and I faded. I didn’t know where Mary was, or even if she was still alive. If anything had happened to her, it was my fault. Worst of all, I hadn’t been able to explain things or say goodbye. We had a long way to travel, and there was nothing to do but sit back and face the downstream journey, trapped in my thoughts.
26 RIVER’S PORT
∆∆∆
The rest of the journey lasted two more days. We all talked along the way and Caeldra seemed to lose her annoyance with Jasper; she even tried the eel and was pleasantly surprised at how good it was. After that, we switched to eel for the rest of the journey to preserve our dwindling rations.
We would have to try to restock in River’s Port. It wasn’t long before we spotted a bright light coming from the end of the tunnel.
Suddenly, we emerged in a bright and cavernous open space. Several other boats were traveling in the water surrounding the massive and cramped looking cluster of buildings that appeared to be stacked much too high. Ropes and trinkets hung from balconies, and green moss covered many of the slanted metal roofs giving off a green hue against the sprawled lights of the city. The entire city itself looked to be condensed into a single indistinguishable mass, much too cramped for its own good. From the river, it looked to be about the same size as a few square blocks of New York. Bright neon signs that hung above stores illuminated the narrow streets and gave off a colorful glow against the wet pavement.
“Why does the Government let something like this exist?” I asked Caeldra in awe.
“These people stay off the surface, so they probably either don’t care or don’t want to waste resources on something that’s not causing any problems for them,” she responded as she took in the surroundings.
“Just so you two know, robots are considered equals here. They can trade and do as they please, and you’d best remember it,” Jasper said.
I eyed Caeldra curiously, but she just shrugged. There weren’t many robots in the Guild, and those we did have had minimal independent ability, only assisting in manual labor and none were suitable for wet work—the term used to describe missions in the Undercity. It never occurred to me why the Guild didn’t make use of some of the newer robotic models, but it probably had something to do with the emphasis on people rather than technology.
Boats moved alongside us, carrying huge crates, barrels of eels, and many indistinguishable objects. We were nearing a large dock where many boats were tethered along a specified docking area. As we approached, a lean Junker bot leaned in and grabbed the rope Jasper extended. The robot docked out boat, and the cargo was inspected and recorded on an electronic ledger. The bot recorded the gear Caeldra and I carried and we were permitted to enter the city, no questions asked.
“We don’t tolerate violence here. Please keep your weapons holstered and we won’t have any problems,” the Junker said to us as we stepped onto the dock.
“Well, I wish you both the best. I suppose I’ll take that ammo now and we will be square. You both helped me fish up enough to cover the medical expenses,” Jasper said with a smile as he waved over a Golem-class robot to the boat. “If you two happen to need any ingenious inventions, just head west of the Cleanery,” he said as he pointed to the huge building alongside the dock that stretched to our left. “My workshop has a blue sign that reads ‘Jasper’s Ingenious Inventions.’”
Caeldra and I thanked him, and she gave him the shotgun shells as promised, while the hulking robot began unloading crates of cargo from Jasper’s boat.
“Head straight in and take a left to get to the market. Look for the Scavenger Guild office, and they can help you get back to where you’re from. It was a genuine pleasure to meet the two of you,” he said with a huge grin. “Be sure to get medical attention while you’re here. The surgeon only accepts credits so you might want to sell some belongings if you’re short. I’m afraid I can’t afford to buy any of your treasure.”
“Thanks for your help, Jasper,” Caeldra said, her initial attitude toward the man long faded.
Caeldra and I began walking through the narrow streets of the city, our backpacks and equipment tightly secured. My leg was starting to throb from the walking, but I continued with stoic determination. We received several strange looks as the citizens of the river city observed our weapons and leather jackets bearing the Champions’ insignia. There were just as many robots walking around as there were people, and almost all of them wore clothing of some kind. Most of the models were Junkers, and the question of who would incur the costs to build a robot only to set it free came to mind. I learned that the newly constructed robots would be required to work enough to provide the builder with a decent profit, then they would be given their freedom. Almost all of them used the same coding that relied on some advanced framework created by an unknown coder. One such robot, a scrawny Junker by the name of CH4PK, agreed to guide us to the Scavenger Guild office for the cost of a single pistol bullet. CH4PK wore a thick rubber coat over his damaged chassis to protect the electrical components from the moisture in the air. The robot explained as many nuances of the city as possible as we traveled through the crowded streets. Finally, we entered the marketplace and paid the small robot for his help.
The market itself was a thick bustle of activity as people hauled large carts filled with various goods to and from the many tents and metal market stands. I was surprised to see many people were trading with the bartering system rather than with currency. The market smelled of fish, both cooked and raw, strange spices, and something less pleasant. I identified the less pleasant smell as we passed over a thin metal grate that extended around the stalls in the market. Grease from the cook stands was trickling through the drainage system into large barrels that were lowered into slots in the ground where it accumulated to be put to other use. Some of the grease had clogged, clinging to the sides of the grate. Old grease had festered, producing the pungent undertone which detracted from the other pleasant scents. I wrinkled my nose and turned my attention to the other stalls surrounding us. A few of the stalls were clearly marketed toward the robots of the city and contained great heaps of spare parts and tools needed for robotic repair. Just as there was a barber shop, there was also a specified parlor for cosmetic robot work and mineral oil baths said to clean even the toughest of grime and rust from a variety of metals. The city fascinated me.
We spotted the Scavenger Guild office—it was one of the few permanent structures in an otherwise temporary arrangement. Three large stands were set up outside of the office where merchants were trading for various goods. Two armed guards wearing welded metal plate armor stood outside the doors. They were wielding what looked like some sort of modified C-15 and had large swords strapped to their belts, the dull metal glinting in the bright marketplace light. As we approached, they eyed us appraisingly and positioned their rifles for easier access. One of the guards, a large man with a full beard that hung to his chest, placed his hand heavily on the hilt of the sheathed sword.
“Good day. What business do yo
u have with the Guild?”
“We would like to speak with the supervisor of this office,” Caeldra said as she moved to reveal the insignia on her shoulder.
“I’m not sure what your jacket is supposed to imply, but you appear to be too heavily armed to bring anything but trouble,” said the man as he shifted in place, inspecting our weapons with sharp eyes.
“Please call it in. Tell them we’re with the Champions of Liberty,” I said. Caeldra gave me a cool look of disapproval, but then relaxed as she remembered we were in an underground city outside of the reach of the Government.
He hesitated for a moment, then pulled the handheld radio from his belt and called the office.
“Two kids out here seeking a meeting. They’re heavily armed and say they’re from the Champions of Liberty,” the guard said as he continued to stare at us.
“Let them in, but have them leave the weapons at the front office please,” the voice on the radio said.
We were escorted through the small metal door into an office space that reminded me of the Collection Parlors in the Slums. It didn’t have any of the large chairs, but it had the same lighting and same linoleum flooring—simple and functional, yet lacking any sort of aesthetic decoration. Tables were set neatly throughout the open room, and men and women sat working on computers and weighing things on old scales. There was a door at the back of the room, and we were ushered to it after leaving all of our equipment at the entrance. A middle-aged man wearing an expensive shirt and khaki pants greeted us with a smile and welcomed us into the office. He shook our hands and introduced himself as Jack. He was a stocky looking man with long hair that appeared to be greased back and tied off with some sort of cord. We were seated on two cushioned chairs, and he sat behind the ornamented desk and crossed his fingers as he leaned back and appraised us with a sharp eye.
“So, you claim to be members of the Champions and your jackets are certainly authentic. It’s not like your Council to send Runners such as yourselves to these parts of the Undercity. It would also appear you might need medical attention,” he said as he trained his gaze directly at me. “Now, what brings Champion Runners such as yourselves to River’s Port?”
Caeldra leaned forward and started talking. “We were attacked near our territory and fell into the river by mistake. A resident of these parts rescued us and brought us here. We are looking for a way to return to the Champion’s Guild Hall.”
“I see. Well, you likely know by now that travel through the Undercity itself to your destination is close to impossible. You’d have to cover over one hundred miles, and I’m afraid there aren’t any opportunities to resupply while traveling below the Slums. I’m assuming you either need a loan from us or want to buy some cargo space on one of our transports.”
“Our first priority is to get Jake’s leg taken care of. After that, we’d like to arrange to have our gear moved back to our territory.”
“The leg we may be able to solve. Your gear, on the other hand, will have to stay here. You should know our Guild does not deal in contraband, nor do we transport it. We have a very sensitive relationship with the Government. Our taxes are paid, and our business license is valid.”
“If you deal with the Champions, then you are already committing criminal activity,” Caeldra responded quickly.
He raised an eyebrow at this. “Actually, our license permits us to deal with any citizen in good standing in the Slums. Since the Undercity isn’t the Slums, we don’t break the terms of our license or any applicable Government laws. Even being associated with Jake on the surface would be devastating.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked, a frowning.
“Come now, surely you know,” he said as he looked me over in disbelief. After realizing I had no clue what he was talking about, he pulled out a small datapad and showed it to me.
There was a picture of me and the word ‘WANTED’ directly under it.
‘500 unit reward for information leading to the acquisition of Jacob Ashton. Ashton was last seen under the captivity of an illegal robot and is possibly dangerous.’
I felt the color drain from my face. I knew the Government wanted me, but to place a bounty like that on my head was more than serious. That was a fortune. A bounty like that would attract even the most sensible and gentle-natured citizens of the Slums to take action if I was spotted.
“I don’t think it’s wise for you to return to the surface anytime soon, Mr. Ashton,” Jack said as he put away the datapad. He leaned back in his chair and started talking again.
“Here’s what we’ll do. You’ll give us all of your gear, and we’ll arrange for it to be moved through an independent party back to your guild, which will cover the cost of the shipping. Should they refuse to pay, your gear will become our property. We will treat the leg here, and the expense will be fronted. We will then take you to the surface and arrange private transportation back to your Slums district where you will be able to return to the Champions.” He scratched his chin. “Should you fail to cover any of the costs or our ten percent premium on the credits borrowed, let’s just say the Government will find Mr. Ashton, and I’ll be happy to pocket the five hundred unit bounty.”
“That’s suitable, but what assurance do we have that our gear will be delivered?” Caeldra asked.
“Well, I’m afraid your bargaining position is quite weak, but I’ll give you a one hundred unit insurance voucher should delivery fail. More than generous really. Needless to say, if anything goes wrong, our Guild has nothing to do with any of this, and we never spoke.”
I turned to Caeldra. “Are you sure the Guild will pay for all of this?”
She gave me a solemn nod and shook Jack’s hand, striking a deal.
“Wonderful. Let’s get your friend’s leg taken care of,” Jack said as he took an ink pen from his desk and signed the insurance voucher for our equipment before handing it to us. He then signed another voucher and handed it to Caeldra. “Take this to Dimitri on the far west side of River’s Port. He’s the best and only surgeon in the area. He’ll get you back on your feet, Jake. Come back when he’s done and you’re rested, and we will get you ready for travel. Leave your gear with us; you won’t be permitted to take anything illegal with you to the surface. We’ll need to find you some suitable street clothes,” he said as he dismissed us from the office. Though we regretted it, treating the lockbox that contained Mindshift as valuable property and refusing to give it up would only draw suspicion and could tempt their Guild to inspect it more closely. Our best bet was to leave it with everything else and hope for the best. Transporting the tech on the surface of New York was unthinkable.
Leaving the office, we headed west toward the clinic owned by Dimitri. The streets grew increasingly cleaner as we walked and the loud noise of the market faded behind us. A few robots walked along the streets, some carrying weapons, but it was much quieter, and I was able to slow my pace as the burden of walking in front of others faded. The growing pain in my leg eased as I slowed down. Caeldra didn’t seem to mind the reduced pace and seemed concerned I was walking at all. She offered to support me as I walked, putting an arm under me, but I refused her, not wanting to burden her or appear weak.
“Do you think we can trust Jack?” I asked Caeldra as we walked.
“We don’t have a choice. Frankly, he is our best option of getting out of this mess. As for your leg, I’d say we are very lucky there is anyone down here who is capable of fixing it.”
“What about transportation on the surface? What if I’m noticed?”
“I don’t think they want that, either. The relationship between our Guilds is worth more than five hundred units. Starting a war with us isn’t something that would interest the Scavenger Guild.”
River’s Port was much larger than I had expected and the walk took about twenty excruciating minutes before we spotted the neon blue medical cross. It hung over a metalclad building without windows. We entered cautiously into a room reeking of disinfectant and
the faint scent of vanilla. Empty chairs lined the walls of the waiting room, and an elderly woman sat at the desk, reading some sort of book. She looked up at us through large glasses and gave us an appraising look, as if trying to decide what we were supposed to be in our unfamiliar leather jackets.
“Welcome to the clinic. We require payment up front and you’ll need to fill out some paperwork,” she said as she slid a worn clipboard across the metal desk. I took the clipboard and handed her the voucher from Jack. She looked at it and held it under a dark red light. The ink glistened under the dull light, and she deposited the voucher in a small safe, apparently satisfied with the authenticity of the document.
The paperwork consisted of a summary of ailments and a statement which basically signed my life away and waived all liability of the clinic in the case something went wrong during my visit, not that such a contract mattered outside the confines of River’s Port.
Dimitri, a large man wearing light blue scrubs, came from the back and waved me forward.
“Your friend will need to wait in the lobby. This shouldn’t take more than an hour,” he said as he reviewed the paperwork. Caeldra took a seat, and I was led to the back where Dimitri examined the wound after unwrapping the bandages. He used a scanner to verify the radioactive isotope and my need for surgery.
“Whoever sewed this up probably saved your life, my friend. I see they used a river algae salve to draw out some of the toxins. Brilliant,” he remarked as he gloved his hands. He walked over to what looked like a large refrigerator and pulled out a tray of surgical tools from under the dark purple light of the interior. He then grabbed an IV bag and rubbed my wrist with an alcohol pad.
