The Future Was Now

by J. R. Harber

  “This connects to those chains,” she said as he reached her side. “I think we just pull it.”

  “Worth a try,” he agreed.

  Asa went to the wall of yellow fuel tanks and grabbed one; it had a place for a spout, and after a moment he found one in a box labeled “SPOUTS” on the nearest shelf.

  “Whoever set this place up was definitely organized,” he murmured as he returned to the boat with the can of fuel.

  He fitted the spout into the small opening in the boat’s tank and poured the fluid in slowly. When the yellow can was empty, he righted it, and the slick substance ran down from the spout onto his hands. He dropped the can and wiped his hands hurriedly on his pants, but the fuel did not burn or hurt as he had expected it to. Carefully, Asa screwed the cap on again and closed the trapdoor.

  “I think it’s ready,” he called to Eve.

  “We’ve still got to get our bags from the car,” she said and headed out the door. He climbed out of the boat and followed her.

  Now or never.

  As soon as Eve and Asa were out of sight, Gabriel crept out of his hiding place and across the beam suspending the boat over the water, then crawled in through the open cabin door, searching for a place to hide. There were two seats in front of the control panel, and a bench behind them, built into the wall. Gabriel smiled and flipped the top of the bench up, revealing a compartment.

  It held three square blue cushions. He took them out, shoved them under the seats, climbed into the compartment, and pulled the top down. He found himself in complete darkness as Asa’s and Eve’s voices rose again, coming back into the building.

  The planks creaked as Asa and Eve climbed into the boat, and he heard murmured voices as they talked. Gabriel relaxed into stillness, deliberately slowing his breathing.

  I hope they know what they’re doing, he thought, though of course they didn’t. I hope they’re not complete idiots, he amended.

  “Ready?” Eve shouted.

  Asa answered something indistinct. Then, with a screech of grinding gears, the boat began haltingly to lower into the water. Gabriel braced himself against the sides of the storage compartment, clenching his teeth as the platform shuddered on its long-unused pulleys. There was a soft splash; then the whole boat was buoyed up, rocking for a moment nauseatingly. The ancient engine began to roar, and Gabriel closed his eyes.

  I hope this thing doesn’t leak.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ASA COULD FEEL EVE’S EYES ON HIM AS HE stood in front of the wheel with his hands light on its spokes, steering the boat with ease. She was tracking each movement he made like a hawk watching a field mouse. He glanced back at her and grinned.

  She shook her head in disapproval, her face grave. “Watch where we’re going,” she said tightly.

  She was sitting cross-legged on the seat beside him, holding on to both arms of the chair, and every time they rocked side to side her grip tightened. They were barely halfway across, and already her knuckles were so white Asa imagined he could see the bones through her skin. He turned back to the wheel with haste.

  “The boat’s covered—we’re not going to fall out,” he said matter-of-factly, trying to suppress his own excitement. We’re crossing a river! he wanted to shout. On a boat! Who have we ever met who’s done that?

  After days of running, the violence they had witnessed, the fear that had followed them from moment to moment, they were finally having the kind of adventure that he loved, boldly taking on something no one else would dare to do.

  He glanced back again at Eve, who had her eyes screwed shut now, then fixed his gaze on their destination. The water moved smoothly, but it moved fast: in the little mirror beside the wheel he could already see the boathouse was well upstream, although he had aimed to go straight across.

  Asa turned the wheel cautiously, and the boat tipped a little; beside him Eve inhaled sharply.

  “It’s okay,” he said, trying to sound confident. “I’m just making sure we don’t go too far downstream.”

  “What? I thought you could drive this thing!”

  “I can! Eve, it’s fine.”

  Asa held out a hand, and after a second Eve took it, squeezing it briefly, then stood and crossed the few steps between them unsteadily. She put an arm around his waist, clutching him tightly, and stayed there, watching as he steered them toward the shore. Asa kept his eyes on the water, his pulse quickening as she held on to him, the line of her body pressed close against his.

  “Have you ever seen so much water?” she whispered, so close he felt her breath on his neck.

  He swallowed and shook his head. “Never.”

  They were fast approaching the riverbank. Asa had been scanning it for another boathouse since they set out, but there was nothing like the little structure they had come from, only a solid-looking concrete wall standing about as high as the boat itself and above that a fence.

  “I don’t know where to stop,” Asa said, worried. Eve bit her lip.

  “I think we have to tie the boat to that fence,” she said faintly, and her grip on his waist tightened, her fingers digging into his side.

  Asa nodded. “I’m going to need you to take the wheel,” he said. She didn’t answer, and he went on before she could protest. “I’ll get out on the deck in back, and I’ll tie the boat off to the fence. Then we’ll just have to climb over it.”

  “Over the fence?” Eve asked, looking at him as though he had just suggested they swim the rest of the way.

  “It’s not high,” he said. “Look, the wall isn’t any higher than the top of the boat. It won’t be hard to climb up.”

  “If it’s so easy to get past, why is there a fence at all?” Eve countered. “What if it’s more dangerous than it seems?”

  Asa let out a long, slow breath; he had been considering this as they crossed. “I think it’s like how there’s nothing really stopping you from going out into the Waste,” he said. “People probably aren’t trying to get into Sanctuary because no one really knows where it is—they get brought here somehow, and it’s not like they have any reason to leave. I bet that fence is just there so no one loses their balance and falls in.”

  He lowered the boat to the slowest pace he could without stopping.

  “Maybe.” Eve didn’t sound convinced, but she let him guide her hands to the wheel as he stepped aside. “What do I do?”

  “Just keep it aimed at the wall, and when I give the signal, pull that lever down into neutral.” Asa pointed to the neatly labeled engine controls.

  Eve forced a smile as he went out onto the deck. He picked up a rope that was tied off to a small piece of metal attached to the boat’s side. He pulled against it hard to test its strength; the rope held. He waved at Eve through the window, and she nodded curtly and pulled the lever into neutral. The boat drifted for a moment, then rammed into the concrete wall.

  Asa lurched forward, catching himself just before his head hit the wall as the boat began to drift downstream. The fence atop the wall was the height of his shoulders, and Asa reached out with the rope and grabbed a thin metal fence post. His fingers slipped immediately from it; the boat was too heavy for Asa to hold, but he looped the rope around the post and held on to that for dear life.

  Slowly, the boat came to a halt, and he began to pull on the rope, dragging them along the wall back to where they had first tried to stop. After a moment, Eve emerged from the cabin and walked over behind him to help. They pulled on the rope in concert until they made it back to the fence post. He tied off the rope in a series of knots, then turned to Eve and hugged her impulsively. She made a startled squeak, but she hugged him back fiercely.

  “What was that?” she asked breathlessly when he let her go.

  He shrugged. “I think I like boats,” he said. “Come on.”

  He held out his hands to give her a boost, but Eve ignored him; she grabbed the fence post, stepped on the railing, and smoothly lifted herself onto the concrete wall and over the fence. Asa blinke
d.

  “Toss me the bags,” Eve called softly.

  He retrieved the bags from the control room and handed them to her, one by one, then scrambled up the wall and over the fence. She took his hand when he landed beside her and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek.

  “I hate boats,” she whispered in his ear, then laughed in that frantic way she had.

  They were on an open path that seemed to run along the riverbank, edged by the fence, and what Asa suspected had been right; the barrier was only there to prevent accidents. From their path, other, narrower paths branched out, leading to open grass. Off in the distance, Asa could see houses and a few scattered larger buildings. Before them lay a large field where crops were growing: corn, wheat, and some he did not recognize.

  As they watched, white drones swooped over the field and sprayed a fine mist of water over the crop, then dropped almost to ground level, disappearing among the various plants. Asa went to the edge of the field and crouched. The drone opened a panel in its side, and dozens of tiny white ants came spilling out. Asa crawled closer.

  “Asa, what are you doing?” Eve was standing behind him.

  “Just a second.”

  He watched as the ants formed into a phalanx and began to march through the dirt. Pairs split off as they passed each stalk of corn and began to climb, and Asa stood, watching the progress of two ants as they made their way up. They moved in concert, circling the stalk as they climbed it, then reached the first ear, where Asa spotted a little green beetle with black spots, sheltering on a leaf.

  “Eve, watch,” he whispered, and she bent down beside him to see.

  On the opposite side of the stalk, the ants stopped and came together, almost seeming to confer, then they set off marching side by side toward the beetle.

  The insect scarcely roused to move before one ant had it by the wings, the other at its head. They were swift and brutal, using legs and mandibles to tear the beetle apart, letting its remains fall to the ground below. When the beetle was destroyed, the ants seemed to confer again. They marched back and forth where the insect had been, their tiny heads down as if inspecting the space. Asa leaned closer, trying to see them better.

  Even for ants this is weird, he thought, and then the creatures stopped moving, and the tips of their antennae began to flash rapidly with green lights, sending an almost inaudible series of high-pitched beeps. Asa pulled back, stunned.

  “What did I just witness? A tiny insect murder?” Eve asked.

  Asa nodded. “I think so. Look.”

  He pulled her along and crouched to look at the crop of wheat, where more ants were marching along each stalk. From somewhere inside, he could hear a soft rustling as individual stalks of wheat swayed, followed by the quiet beeping. He cupped his hands around his eyes, and from a dozen points among the crops, he saw flashing pairs of bright green lights.

  “What is that?” Eve asked.

  “They’re automs—the ants are all automs. They’re … pest control.”

  “What?”

  “They’re searching each individual plant for pests, probably for disease too—that beeping and flashing, they’re signaling something.”

  “Isn’t that a waste of tech?” Eve asked, moving them back to the path where they had started, but Asa shook his head.

  “I mean, it depends on your priorities. If you want to make sure you never lose a crop to blight or bugs … then no, it’s not a waste at all. At home we spray crops with a solution that kills the bugs, but they can become resistant. There’s always a risk that something will come along that you can’t stop. But this? You’re not going to run across a strain of beetle resistant to ant-sized automs tearing them apart.”

  “Unless you get really big beetles,” Eve said, and Asa gave her a distracted smile.

  “Then you’d just send more ants.”

  He started back toward the field, and Eve caught his hand.

  “Asa, what’s wrong? Why are you so focused on these things? This isn’t what we’re here for,” she reminded him.

  He stopped and looked at her; she had a genuinely puzzled expression. She doesn’t understand. He reached out and touched her cheek.

  “City girl,” he said, then met her concerned gaze. “I’m a farmer, Eve. Look, there’s been no shortage of food since the Founding. If one community runs low, another always has a bumper crop to help out. We really are all in this together, right?”

  “Of course,” she said slowly.

  “But we’ve been lucky too—there could be a blight. There could be some infestation we’re not prepared for. It’s always possible.”

  “Okay,” she said, still uncomprehending.

  Asa sighed in frustration. “These ants—they’re not just pest control. They’re an early warning system. I bet they detect signs of disease ages before human eyes could. They could take down a resistant infestation one by one without damaging the crop. They could detect disease and probably sort which plants should be destroyed and which can survive. They could prevent a famine.”

  “Oh,” Eve said, her eyes going wide. “That’s incredible.”

  “Yeah,” Asa said. “So why aren’t they everywhere? Why don’t we have them?” They stared at each other for a moment, wordless; then Eve grabbed his arm.

  “Look,” she whispered, and he turned around.

  Less than fifty feet away, a perfectly round cloud slowly descended from the sky. As it touched down, the mist around it dissipated, revealing a large round passenger drone. Asa’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Contract Enforcement,” he said so quietly he could barely hear himself. “They tracked us.”

  There was nowhere to hide, unless they went in among the crop, but it was too late; they would be spotted by now. Asa took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, stepping protectively in front of Eve as the door to the drone opened.

  Three people clambered out in an excited chaos, laughing and shouting as they gathered bags and parcels from inside. Eve and Asa exchanged a glance; then Eve gave him a quick smile and strode toward them. There were two women, one extremely thin and pale, with iron-gray hair, and the other plump and brown with a puff of hair that was a pale pink. The third person was a Panasian man without a shirt. Asa tried not to stare at his chest; it was defined and muscular, but his skin appeared thin, hanging off the muscle as if it was too loose.

  “Hello,” the man said, waving as they approached. “We’re just on our way to have lunch in the park.” He held up a basket as proof.

  “You must be with the State!” the pink-haired woman exclaimed, then laughed at their expressions. “Don’t look so surprised, kids. I hope you weren’t expecting to blend in.”

  “What are you here about?” the gray-haired woman asked tensely, and Asa looked at her in surprise.

  The other woman laughed. “Claudia! You can’t ask that. It’s none of our business.” She shook her head exaggeratedly and smiled at Eve. “I’m sure they’re very good at whatever it is they’re doing,” she said firmly.

  “Thanks,” Asa mumbled uncomfortably, and Eve caught his eye.

  “We’re here to speak with David Micah Founder,” Eve said with smooth assurance. The group stared at her for a moment, then the man laughed. “Can you tell us where to find him?” she asked, her voice tightening, and the man nodded.

  “He’s in his old cabin past the City Block,” he said, pointing.

  Off in the distance were large, brightly painted sculpture buildings like the ones in Horizon, all clustered together, though spread out along the narrow roads. Asa could see houses that looked like the ones back in Rosewood.

  Something for everyone, he thought.

  “He’s as close to the ocean as anyone dares to be,” the man added.

  “Why did you laugh?” Asa asked suspiciously. “When she asked about David, why did you laugh?”

  “Oh, everyone’s always looking for David,” the pink-haired woman said. “But good luck getting him to talk to you!”

 
; “Thanks,” Eve said wryly.

  She glanced at Asa, and they started down the path toward the buildings in the distance.

  It didn’t take long to get to what the man had referred to as the “City Block,” which was indeed about the size of a city block in Horizon. The unique sculpture buildings stretched up and out in strange proportions, each one decorated without any thought to how it might look next to the others. Asa marveled briefly at a black dome, shimmering like a dark stone in the sun, set next to a jagged tower painted in orange, pink, and yellow stripes.

  “It looks like they just picked up a chunk of the city and set it down in the middle of this place,” Eve whispered, echoing his thoughts.

  “Do you feel right at home?” he asked lightly, and she laughed and shook her head.

  “No. It feels strange. I think I’d feel more at home in a place where everything is new to me. This just looks like they’ve tried to make a copy of my home.” She gave him a curious look. “Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah,” he said thoughtfully. “I kind of imagined Sanctuary would be … unimaginable. But if you’re going to spend the rest of your life somewhere, it makes sense that you’d want it to be familiar.”

  “I guess,” Eve said.

  Asa glanced at her. Her face was placid, but he had the feeling of something else beneath the surface—some conversation she still wanted to have.

  Without discussion, they took the path that circled around the City Block instead of going through it. When they made the first turn, Asa realized that what he had assumed to be one of the buildings was actually an immense concrete wall, rising as high as the tallest of the Horizon-style sculptures. It ran along the path ahead of them, and when he looked back, he saw that it stretched a little beyond the farms they had first passed. At the end he could just make out a low, round building that resembled the water treatment plants back home.

  There was an odd noise coming from somewhere nearby. It almost sounded like the boat engine running, but not quite; it was softer and more soothing, but still it roared on the other side of the wall.