Neon Sands Trilogy Boxset: The Neon Series Season One

by Adam J. Smith

  “My arm.” She raised it and stroked the missing rectangle of skin. “They were able to successfully extract – well, begin to successfully extract – the information stored in the DNA there. The problem is; there’s just so much, that even on that small patch, it could take decades. And there could be areas where I have no data stored at all, and others where it is like data central.”

  “Okay, so… what’s the answer?”

  She turned around so she could face him, and took his hands. “How do you like my pillow talk?” She smiled nervously.

  “So far… not so much!”

  “I’m sorry.” She kissed the hands that used to hold hers when, as children, they’d go ‘a-tissue, a-tissue, and all fall down’, landing with the other children hard on their backsides. “So… this bit of my skin… it’s soaking – and I’m sure the lab guys would say something else, I’ve not even got their names right; they’re geneticists or something. This bit of my skin is soaking in something called a nano-protein compound. It works to breakdown the tissue and decode the data inside. This bit of skin is never growing back.”

  “So they what? Want all your skin? That’s crazy.”

  “No, no – they want my whole body. The data will be everywhere. Every cell of my body has DNA. Kirillion spoke of it like; I could have a symphony in my heart, and a map of the stars in my little finger.”

  “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “I’ve thought and thought this over and I just can’t not do this. I’ve been down there, in the city, and the people; they’re just not right. I’ve hardly met anyone properly up there in the ring, but they’re no better either. We’re just not going anywhere as a species. It’s like we’re stuck. I might be the only chance to move on and escape this prison.”

  “Or – and this would be a lot better, and quicker, and easier – we could just start a revolution. Kill everyone involved and tell everyone else the truth. They’d soon wake up.”

  “It wouldn’t work. Did Kirillion tell you why you were thrown out?”

  “No.”

  She smiled. “Essentially, you’re a rebel. Something went wrong with your make-up; the cells, genetics, that make you.” She shrugged. “I dunno. All I know is everyone here is born to be subservient – I’ve seen it myself, it’s horrible. You were born to break that mould, and so they threw you out. Kirillion said you were lucky you weren’t just killed at birth.”

  Calix shook his head, pure bewilderment furrowing his brow. “What?” He sighed, exasperated. “People are people… I really, just, don’t get any of this.”

  She leaned in and put her head to his chest. His arms went round her, loosely, and she pushed him until he was flat and she could hear his heart beating; until her head rose and fell with his chest. “We can still be together,” she said. “In fact, I don’t think it can be any other way.”

  He didn’t say anything. She ran a finger along his scar. Will that be there?

  “One of the problems they were trying to overcome was just how long I would need to be kept alive for.”

  “What… while you’re eaten alive?”

  “Cal… please don’t be like that.” His stomach muscles tensed. After a few seconds, he relaxed, and his breathing resumed as normal.

  “Go on.”

  “They need brain activity to keep me alive; to reduce the chances of the body just shutting down. Even if they put me in a coma, I’d be braindead long before they had chance to get everything. That’s why they gave me the neural link.” Calix’s finger circled the metallic rim of the connection socket. “To keep me active. Keep my mind alive. Only… it differs from person to person, but some people’s minds can shut down after a while. And others thrive for years. Kirillion said some people spend nearly their entire lives in the link, dying suddenly when their bodies can no longer carry the weight. They’ve never permanently trapped someone in the link, and were afraid to try it without being sure how I would react.”

  “So you’ve been there? The link?”

  “Yeah. It’s… just like dreaming really, only more real. You’re in control. Fool yourself enough and it’s only one step removed from reality.” She lifted her head to look into his eyes. “I think Kirillion may well have been happy to see you, after all. If you were with me in the link… I don’t know… I think the chances of survival goes up.”

  “Survival… whose survival?”

  “Mine. Yours. Humanity’s.” She sat up, curling her legs beneath her. “We could do anything. Go anywhere. We’d be together.”

  “While you’re soaking in a giant test tube. What about me? I’d need to eat and shit. Do I just come and go as I please? Leaving you alone in there?”

  “You could join me. A state of permanence, Panette called it once. All hooked up to machines that keep your body alive.”

  He looked not at her, but through her: she wished she could tell what he was thinking. She put a hand to his cheek. “Talk to me.”

  He blinked. “This is what you want? It’s not Kirillion’s persuasion from beyond the grave? Some hypnotic trick?”

  “No trick. No persuasion. Just the right thing.”

  “Does it need to be right away?”

  She shrugged and looked up to the ceiling. “Not right away… I don’t think.” She smiled, stroking his belly. “You’ll need fitting with a neural link. There’ll be other things they need to work out, no doubt. The sooner it’s done though, the sooner our adventures can begin, just like you always talked about.”

  “Can we go to the sands in the link?”

  “Wherever we like.”

  “Sit on top of the crawler?”

  “Why not?”

  He nodded. “That’s where all my crazy adventure theories always came from; looking out to the horizon. Nothing but sand. Knowing there was more to it than that.”

  She lay back down again, holding him.

  “This subservience thing. Do you have it?” he asked.

  “Oh, for sure I’ll have it.”

  Epilogue

  Calix wasn’t quite ready yet. He was building up to it. Every day he’d enter the link, ten minutes more each time. Annora waiting for him. She had a small room for herself that reminded him of her room under Sanctum. She didn’t want to venture out into the world without him, so she read books and listened to music. She’d been right about it being like a dream; every time he came to after a session, it felt like waking. Everything that happened had been lucid, but undeniably a dream. After a while, he stopped hoping this would change, for when he was inside for good, it wouldn’t matter anymore. He just had to remember to envisage himself with the scar. That was important, she said.

  Between sessions, he’d come down to the laboratory where she was kept. It was funny, how he’d already begun to dislocate her physical self from her linked self. This was her body, suspended in a thick, blue-green substance, arms out in a T-pose, legs straddling an invisible saddle. Cables carried substances into her body, and others carried them out. The one cable ran red from the blood pumped intravenously into her system. This same blood would be given to him at intervals throughout his life in the link, to keep him alive. It was the boy’s blood. They were genetically modified to produce it – pimped by the vitamin D from the sun of the plains. The source of everyone’s immortality. Panette said it was repackaged for the Queens as body lotion. They would die one day, and they still aged, but not for a long time.

  ***

  Even when the lights returned, Rylan stayed in the backroom of Misty’s Pancakes. With every loud noise, he jumped; startled and sure this was it. Here they are. He felt guilty for staying there and putting Misty in danger, but she insisted on his company. Said without him, she’d have nothing. This was a lie – plenty of people loved Misty and she loved plenty of people. It was something to do with age – it softened you, he thought. Well… some people more than others. He was happy to oblige for now; she was the only reason he was still alive. Every time he fell asleep, his final
thought was ‘What next?’ There would be nowhere to go from here. They’d track him down and find him eventually. And for what? A compulsive act of revenge. Against who? What had it served? People had been frightened for a while – more scared about losing the link than what they might have next to eat, or when they could sleep in their own beds again. And now everything was back to normal. He’d accomplished nothing.

  If only he’d been able to convince Clarisse of this, for he’d already known.

  Someone knocked on the door. Misty never knocked on the door. He wanted to think: This is it, they’ve found me. But the authority wouldn’t knock on the door either.

  They knocked again.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened. Light angled in from Misty’s kitchen. It wasn’t Misty’s face he saw, it was Caia’s. “I have some explaining to do,” she said.

  From the author

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  Neon Zero

  By

  Adam J Smith

  The Neon Series Prequel Novella

  Copyright © 2019 Adam J Smith

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact the author.

  Journal of Lance Corporal Edmonds

  38th February (ext), 2234

  Hard to believe that after everything we’ve done – everything we’ve achieved – our fate remains the same as Earth’s. We escaped their burning pyres only to see the touch-paper lit here. It’s already begun. Today, 2nd Lieutenant Baines and I commandeered a Grounder and made our way over to Neon. Maintenance crews haven’t been out for weeks, and it showed. The road was cracked where the heat had melted it and then the frost of night had frozen it; all sorts of shapes snapping up when the Grounder’s over-sized tires rolled over them. As always with the Grounder, the ride was smooth – I wish I could say the same for Baines. He’s losing it or lost it. His mojo, that is. His – how would he put it? – incorrigible charm. What comes around, comes around – to bite you on the ass, he said a few days ago. Ever since the news broke he’s been a hollow shell. I guess everyone takes it different. Some run around in blind panic and there’s no snapping them out of it besides SNAPPING them out of it. Others need an arm and some guidance and to be told where to go, where to stand, where to eat, when to shit. Some, like Baines, put up such a tall barrier to block out the sun they spend the whole day standing in shadow, going about their lives as though navigating their apartment in darkness.

  Then there are those like me, I suppose. Turning the lights on in each room. Making sure to switch them off again when they leave.

  We’re here, in Neon, right now, waiting for the latest storm to subside. Hoping the next isn’t THE ONE.

  We got about two-thirds the way to Neon and took a small detour to Alpha Five. There were children playing outside the dome – CHILDREN – and they raced up to us as we pulled up. Their faces were red and wide with smiles and I could tell straight away that they had no idea what was going on. Which was fine, I thought. I wasn’t in charge here. It wasn’t my call. And hell, what did it matter if the children could be kept in the dark for as long as possible.

  The problem there of course was Captain Selani Birdie. Birdie of 8th regiment, before it disbanded. She’s never quite been able to let go of that feeling of power. I always used to think she meant well, but earlier today she remained even more stubborn than I remembered her. Falling rocks couldn’t have moved her. Well falling rocks – or their metaphorical equivalent – had to.

  She came out to greet us. “Hi,” she said, and surprised me by the strength in her handshake. The children fled like cattle. Baines stood back – he was probably smoking in the shade of the Grounder – in fact now that I recall, yes, I could smell the smoke. I remember thinking how soon he wouldn’t need a match.

  “What brings ya out here?” asked Birdie. She would hate it right now if she knew I was calling her Birdie.

  “Captain. Is it safe to let the children play out here?”

  She looked around, dismissive; a look on her face that said she knew better. By now the children had run over to the playground built within Alpha Five’s park. Looked good, compared to some other parks. The grass was still green and there were leaves on the trees – a treehouse poking out of the bough of one. Colour of pre-autumn.

  When she didn’t say anything, I added, “You’re doing a good job on irrigation here.”

  “Aye. The farming’s good in this sector. You had an apple yesterday, it were probably from here. Are you stopping...?”

  “Lance Corporal Edward Edmonds,” I told her, and then saluted. She seemed a little taken aback at first – formalities such as this are dying a death, I know, but she was a Captain after all.

  “Edmonds,” she dragged my name out, trying to place it, no doubt.

  I told her I was an easy person to forget, and that we didn’t have time to stop, I just had this edict to give her. It was then that she rolled her eyes.

  “Yeah, I got a pile of them already on my desk, not to mention my inbox.”

  “It’s important,” I implored. “This isn’t some safety fire drill.”

  “Listen,” she began, and I’m trying not to laugh as I write this, for it shouldn’t be funny, but the look on her face; it was one of those moments I wish I’d had my iris-recorder in. She thrust that piece of paper in my face, waving it around, telling me how she had every right to run her sector how she saw fit; how the latest reports were all just scare-mongering and that when push came to shove, Alpha Five would protect them – and then POOF! That piece of paper went up in flames right in her hand – the flames exploded into the air and almost burned her eyebrows. She gave a yelp and jumped back and dropped the paper to the ground. It was ash before it even landed.

  She looked down at the smouldering embers with a perplexed look on her face, and then turned her eyes to the cloudless red-pink sky. I did too, the stinging smell of carbon in my nostrils. My skin prickled. I had the oddest sensation running across the bare skin of my arms, felt across my balding scalp, of being trapped inside a microwave. I turned in place, as though to present every side of myself, and glanced at Baines. His hand shaped as though holding an invisible cigarette. Trails of smoke spun from the ground by his feet.

  “Baines!” I shouted. “Hey!”

  He looked at me, waking from his slumber. I shouted at him to go grab the kids, and then I turned and took Birdie’s arm and lead her to Alpha Five’s entrance, shouting for them to open up.

  Here, in the comfort of Neon’s western Guest & Board, with its thermostatic control and spa bath that I recently made use of, I can’t quite put into words how it felt – the heat. Imagine that your skin had turned from pink to red in a matter of seconds, and then imagine the cause as external, and what that would mean for your fragile, fry-able skin. When we made it inside Alpha Five I just looked at my hands and had never been so keenly aware of being nothing but meat. Just one step removed from a spit-roasted pig, with less fatty skin.

  I turned to witness Baines making an effort, which was something at least. He corralled the children from the
park towards the entrance; their mouths agape, screaming, smoke wagging behind them like tails. Only at the last second did I register that I had over twenty children barrelling towards me, and stepped aside quickly. Half of them were as red as me; those who weren’t were dark-skinned and I envied them that. We all felt the same pain.

  As the doors closed to the world and the transfer room quarantined the children’s sobs, I watched the leaves fall from the trees in the park; tears of flame that extinguished inches above the browning grass.

  Flares

  Lance Corporal Edmonds, or just Edmonds as he preferred, stretched and yawned. The scribblings in the diary wavered into a plate of spaghetti until he rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times. Nope, didn’t help much either. Too tired to continue. He rose and winced – and shook his head that he should feel pain simply by moving, his skin flexing. It looked dry yet shimmered beneath the light, and he wanted to itch at it so badly. Instead, he opened the complimentary refrigerator and took out a bottle of cold water. A scintillating thirst squencher. He was pretty sure there was no search verb as squench. He uncapped the bottle and brought it tentatively to his lips. The water went down like good synth, after stinging his lips.

  Following his bath in salt water he’d applied a salve to the red parts of his skin, and for a while it had soothed the burning itch. Now they rose again, and he grabbed the pot of salve from the shelf and began rubbing more of the ointment on. He considered the swimming pool that would be down near the first floor of the Guest & Board, but had to stifle a yawn as he did so.

  He smothered the salve across his scalp, moaning quietly, then stepped up to the open window. It was nothing like home; the air at home would’ve blown its cooling fingers through the window. Here nothing licked. Lights shimmered in the city that never slept, such a contrast to New Seren. Every building was a highrise with a glass and concrete façade, fascias of neon and argon illumination painted up the sides and floating by on advertisement drones. The amount of energy and resources this city needed boggled his mind. Looking out, and up a hundred levels, and down a hundred levels; he shook his head – this was only half the story. Each tower plummeted below the ground to equal subterranean depths. He worried for the wellbeing of the families who lived here, for what kind of life could they lead, surrounded by hard walls and regime? Only allowed to leave upon being granted exit visas.