The Golden Circuit (The Smith Chronicles)

by John K. Irvine

  “Let me get the door for you, sir,” buttered Flugg.

  “Yes, thank -”

  But the TAPCON controller was cut short.

  “Sempre, Sempre, OUT, OUT, OUT! Sempre, Sempre, OUT, OUT, OUT!”

  PASIV had started up a flash-mob protest!

  At the front of the group, was Janeee Swish with her meta-phone, leading her brethren, giving it her all, rallying her troops into action.

  “DOWN WITH TAPCON! DOWN WITH TAPCON!” she shouted.

  Sempre’s face turned crimson. “Arrest this scum, immediately!” he yammered.

  Ulysses Flugg chuntered into his hand-held and within 10 seconds a squad of TTF agents in armoured vehicles had appeared, as if from nowhere.

  Janeee Swish and the PASIVs dispersed in all directions (getting themselves shot at was not part of their plan), however, a valiant few remained lying in the middle of the road, still expressing their grievances:

  “DEATH TO TAPCON! DEATH TO TAPCON!”

  Sempre, now secure in the back of his vehicle, laughed out loud to himself: “Look at them running. They’ve got no courage! Pathetic savages.”

  Some Stun-Gun shots rang out.

  Some bodies fell, and then scampered for the shadows.

  Sempre didn’t care.

  He continued laughing his crazy laugh as his car made its way through the city streets, back to the safety and anaesthetised calm of TAPCON Towers.

  Chapter 11

  21:09 - Saturday, July 28, 2187 (Algonquin Stratis, Muhaze, Tapi-36)

  Mikita stood nervously under a shop awning on Algonquin Stratis. The agents would be looking for her, so she had to act quickly, the consequences of capture were too dire to contemplate. But how had the TTF arrived at Hanoi’s flat so quickly? How had they known she was there, and that she’d killed Hanoi? How? Mikita had no time to contemplate the ins and outs of that conundrum.

  She got on the first street-tram that came past - the No. 5 heading north.

  She held her meta-file over the ticket censor. It had her student ID info embedded into it on a small chip - all students went free on transport in Muhaze.

  Nice TAPCON. Good TAPCON, she thought.

  As she was putting her meta-file back into her pocket, Mikita felt it vibrate and remembered that she'd texted Polo from Hanoi’s apartment. She checked the message. It was Polo:

  [At shuttle station. Going to stay with Fizz. Where are you? Px]

  Mikita sighed, and replied to her cousin:

  [There in 15. Wait for me? M]

  The tram departed and headed uptown towards the Balmaha Shopping Centre. Mikita thought that she would get off at the south entrance and walk all the way through the mall to the north exit outside the Muhaze Central Shuttle Station. The shopping centre was open until 11pm on a Saturday night, so there would still be plenty of people shopping late or drinking and eating in the bars and restaurants. Muhazians could always find the time, and the funds, for personal pleasure on a Saturday night, despite the financial situation on Tapi-36. Mikita would have a good chance of getting lost in the crowds - she only needed to get to there, first.

  From inside the tram, she could hear sirens far off in the distance. Whether or not they were for her, she wasn’t sure. One thing was for certain, she knew she would have to think of each one as a source of potential danger.

  Just then, she saw agents on motorbikes leading a convoy of vehicles along Centris Stratis. She watched them as they passed by the tram, then turned right down Chièvres Avenue, the road that headed out to the airbase. In amongst the procession, she saw a long, black car winding like a hideous viper with ‘TAPCON’ emblazoned on the doors in large, silver letters. Mikita instantly recognised it as the vehicle that David Sempre always travelled in. Sempre was coming back from his interview at The Zip.

  “Hiya, Mikita!”

  Oh, Fire!

  “Mikita! Over here, it’s me!”

  Mikita turned around.

  Polo’s friend Candee was waving at her from the back of the tram.

  Mikita smiled grimly at her. ‘Hi, Candee’, she mouthed, trying not to attract too much attention. Unfortunately, Candee was a loud, needy person and immediately attempted to strike up a conversation with her from where she sat. If Mikita wanted to keep a low profile, then she'd got on the wrong bus.

  “Where are you off to, Mikita? Been at Hanoi’s have you?” she asked, in her mega-watt voice.

  Mikita was shaking her head to try and silence her, but it was no use.

  “Oh, so, you’ve not been at Han’s? Well where are you going then, huh?”

  Mikita shook her head, again. Oh, go away, Candee.

  All the passengers on the tram were watching this rather one-sided communication ping-pong back and forth. They looked like they were attending a game of space-tennis at the Sashan Sports Stadium.

  Candee was unrelenting. “Are you ill or something, Mikita? Lost your voice, have you? There’s a lot of that going around right now. Hey, are you OK? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You’re as white as a sheet!”

  Oh, drain me! thought Mikita, wishing the Tapian ground would open up and swallow her. Then she noticed the tram had already gone past Paradi Square and was turning left into Tokyo Stratis. Mikita’s stop was next.

  She pressed the button on the side of the handrail and waited for the No. 5 to pull up to the pavement. Looking out of the door, she caught her reflection in the glass. Her clothes were ripped, her makeup smudged, hair all over the place and her hands still had bloodstains on them. She hid them up her sleeves and pulled at her hair with her cuffs, trying to straighten it out. Her eyes shifted focus from the glass of the street-tram window and out onto the Megatron screen at the Balmaha Centre. To her horror, she found that she was looking straight at another image of herself - she was on The Zip! She couldn’t believe her eyes! What was she doing on the news? Then it dawned on her… TAPCON had released her picture to the press!

  “Wow, Mikita! Isn’t that you on The Zip?” shouted Candee, pointing to the gigantic screen. “Yes, it is you!” Candee read the caption underneath. “‘Wanted… for… murder’… Murder? What in Herra -? And that’s a picture of Hanoi up there, too! Hey, Mikita, what have you done? Wait up!”

  But Mikita was already off the tram and running towards the entrance of the shopping centre - she could still hear Candee shouting at her: “Mikita! Come back, Mikita!! Hey! Somebody stop that girl!!”

  She ran into the mall and flung herself behind the glass doors. She knew it would not be long before she was recognised - what with her face 30ft tall on screens all over the city!

  She needed to do something.

  She needed a disguise, to somehow change her appearance - quickly… and drastically.

  Mikita entered the main mall area with caution. There were a good number of people about (she'd been correct on that assumption) and the bars on the ground level were busy and noisy. Looking up from the lower floor, she saw a Stigvel’s pharmacy on the upper level and began to move along the shop fronts in the direction of the escalators.

  She ducked her head down and hurried across to the bottom of the nearest one, and got on it. To her annoyance, it was of the slow-moving sort that seemed to take forever to go anywhere. Mikita could feel herself beginning to perspire and wondered how many people in the mall knew that she was a fugitive. She lowered her eyes and looked at no one.

  Finally, she arrived at the upper floor and stepped off. She hurried over to the chemists and began to hunt around the store for a pair of scissors. In the miscellaneous section at the back of the store she found a medium-sized pair, picked them up and walked over to the cashier.

  Oh, fire! she thought. My bag is still at Hanoi’s, I’ve no money!

  But it was too late.

  “Yes, Miss?” said the cashier-mutant. “How you want pay? Cash, or Mu-Cred?”

  “Erm,” stumbled Mikita. “No. It’s OK. I don’t really need these. I’ll just put them back. Sorry.”

  �
��It is no worry, I do,” said the chrome-haired mutant, snatching the scissors from Mikita.

  “No!” growled Mikita, grabbing the other end of the blades. “I mean… No, thank you,” she said, taking her level down a notch (or three). “I’ll do it.”

  The mutant let go.

  Mikita walked back over to the sundries section - the cashier-mutant still watching her as she went - then bent down behind the displays and pretended to put the scissors back on the rack.

  Instead, she dropped them inside the top of her boot.

  On the shelf, above the scissors, she saw several small cans of ‘Hair-Dye-In-A-Spray’. She stood up and looked around. The cashier-mutant was serving another customer by now and was no longer paying attention to her. The coast was clear. She knelt down again, took a can off the shelf and stuffed it into her pocket. Then she began to walk slowly out of the shop.

  Mikita crossed her fingers that she wouldn’t set off the alarms…

  ‘PEEERP-PEEERP-PEEERP!’

  She broke into a run down the mall.

  This is going so badly! You idiot, Mikita!

  She knocked over a few late night revellers, who swore mightily at her, but she carried on. She looked over her shoulder and saw the cashier-mutant talking with an old lady outside the chemists - holding up the granny’s shopping bag and pointing at it, angrily.

  Rounding a corner, Mikita ducked into the lavatories. There was nobody in the ladies toilets except for a cleaner-mutant doing her job on the jobs, scrubbing the bowl, in one of the end loos.

  She turned and caught herself in the mirror. Staring back at her, she saw a worried young woman - one she barely recognised. But she knew that the TAPCON agents would not have such a hard time of it.

  She went into the nearest cubicle and set to work.

  Mikita gingerly took off Gompi’s makeshift bandage and her tattered top, then grabbed the scissors from out of her boot top and began to cut off her hair.

  Mikita’s tresses were of a medium-length going down to just above her shoulders. She yanked them into a tight bunch and cut the ends as close to her scalp as possible. It was tough to get the scissors all the way through, but she managed it, in the end. She was left with a big clump of black hair in her hand that she quickly threw into the toilet. She then set about trimming it down, taking the raggedness out of it, making it as neat as she could.

  Mikita took out the hair-dye canister and noticed the colour for the first time: Platinum Blonde. She’d always wanted her hair that colour, but she’d never summoned up the courage to try it. Now, she had no choice. She shook the can and began to spray the dye onto her hair. It only took a few seconds to complete.

  She left the toilet, checked that the mutant still had her hands full, and went to the sink. Her right arm ached. The flesh wound was initially very painful when it happened, but her body had been so full of adrenalin since then, she'd not noticed it much afterwards. Now, however, taking pause, she felt it all right - it stung like nothing on Tapi-36! She washed the wound with some soap from the dispenser and flushed it with hot water. It was agony, but it had to be done. She didn't want to get an infection. Not while she was on the run - wanted for murder.

  Oh, fire! Hanoi…

  Pushing the thought out of her mind, she scrubbed at her face, removing all her make-up, then washed her hands, thoroughly. Mikita put her top back on and looked at the rest of her clothes. They were torn and mussed up. She needed to find something to cover them. She was too recognisable with her ‘Mikita-Smith-style’ of black, black, and more black.

  Then her eye caught the mutant’s cleaning overall hanging on a peg beside the hand-dryers. Looking around for the mutant again, Mikita saw that she was still diligently cleaning the end toilets. She rushed over and grabbed the tabard off the hook. She put it on, noticing the nametag on the front - it said: ‘Tammy’.

  Her metamorphosis complete, Mikita went back out into the mall and started to walk towards the north end of the shopping centre. She relied on her peripheral vision to keep watch for any TTF agents lurking in the shadows.

  So far, so good, she reassured herself. Now, where’s that sign?

  Mikita was still on the uppermost concourse of the mall. Eventually, she would come to the walkway that connected the south half of the Balmaha to the north half, crossing over Strathbungo Stratis. The sign was after that.

  “Mikita Smith! We know you are in the building!” blasted a voice over the Tannoy system. “Stay where you are! Do not move!”

  Mikita broke into a run - then she realised: They may know that I’m in the building, but they don’t know exactly where, or they would’ve arrested me by now!

  She remembered her plan, and slowed her pace to a ragged, robotic saunter.

  Not bad, she said to herself, pleased with her imitation. This might actually work!

  Then, to her right, she saw the sign that she was looking for: ‘Mutant’s Exit - To Changing Rooms’.

  A few mutant girls were already going through, so Mikita followed them, closely. They were talking amongst themselves:

  “Yes, I go with Danni to see them at Sashan Sports Stadium. I very love music they sing,” said one. “I like ‘Hit Me With Your Mutant Blaster’. Big song on Zip. It go Number One in charts, for sure.”

  “Oh, yeah, they good,” said the other. “I see Nigel & Chromeheads in Grafuulen, at Tapi-Dome. They make me feel all defective inside. Nigel-666, he so cute!” They both giggled a mutanty giggle. It sounded like ball bearings being dropped into a metal sink.

  “Hey, you! Mutant!”

  Mikita froze. A human voice!

  Not moving an inch, she allowed her eyes to look to the left where she saw a small, round man - who was obviously a supervisor of some sort. She decided to say as little as possible; to speak only if absolutely necessary, as her voice was sure to give her away. She pointed to her chest, questioningly: Who? Me?

  “Yes, you! What’s your name?” He peered at her tag. “Tammy? This way, then, Tammy. This way,” he said, with a weary nod in the direction of the changing rooms.

  Mikita’s heart started to thump inside her chest and she hoped the man wouldn’t be able to hear the racket it was making as she went past.

  But her impersonation was working.

  He actually thinks I’m a mutant!

  “All mutants needing to change into civvies, this way, please,” the foreman called out. “All used garments in the laundry disposal. Single file, my little cyborgs, single file.”

  Chapter 12

  21:19 - Saturday, July 28, 2187 (TAPCON Towers, Muhaze, Tapi-36)

  David Sempre pushed a secret button hidden underneath his desktop. A door opened on the right-hand side of his office, moving an entire bookcase with it as it hinged around. It revealed what looked like an old-fashioned, Earth-based bank vault with a large metal door on the front of it. He walked over to it and placed his right hand onto a palm detector attached to the fascia. The device registered his print with a short bleep and the large door slid quietly to the left, revealing a small area that contained nothing except bare, sheet-metal walls, a picture frame and, ahead of him, a panel positioned exactly at his eye height (4’6”).

  On entering the anteroom, Sempre looked squarely at the panel. It housed an iris scanner that proceeded to emit a red laser beam that scrolled down Sempre’s forehead to just below his nose. Having made its check, it then cued a cool, disembodied voice that filled the room.

  “Good evening, Mr. Sempre, and welcome, sir,” it said, in a soft, banal tone.

  “Why, thank you, Bigsby, and good evening to you, too.”

  “Have you come to deliver your report, sir?” the non-descript voice continued.

  “Yes, I have, Bigsby. I have, indeed.”

  “That is excellent, sir.”

  “I trust Air Marshall Sashan is well?” asked Sempre.

  “Oh, yes, he is very well indeed, sir. All vital statistics are functioning as normal. Deterioration levels are at a bare minimum
. Everything is as it should be, Mr. Sempre.”

  “Wonderful. Now, perhaps you could tell him I have come for our meeting?”

  “It will be my pleasure, sir. Please wait here for a moment.”

  Sempre waited impatiently, while Bigsby went, and… well, in truth, Bigsby didn't go anywhere. Bigsby was only a voice. It was obviously the enormous data processor that was doing the relaying of information: with peeps, blonks and other generic noises that accompanied the obeyance of programming.

  Sempre occupied himself by looking at the framed photograph hanging on the wall to his left. The image was somewhat faded, but he could still make out the subjects, clearly. It showed a middle-aged man in a spacesuit, smiling happily. At his side, was a very short young woman, with auburn hair. She had a strong-willed look to her, almost a severity. In her arms, wrapped up in a blue blanket, was a baby only a few months old. It brought a rare half-smile to Sempre’s usually perturbed countenance. However, there was a sadness behind this blissful image, and Sempre knew its secret. It was the only picture ever to be taken of this particular family.

  “Air Marshall Sashan is ready for you now, Mr. Sempre. Please proceed through the air-lock and put on the protective clothing provided, sir.”

  “Thank you, Bigsby. I will,” replied the TAPCON boss.

  The chamber door slid open and Sempre walked through. It slid back, locking him in.

  He was now in a holding area that housed several work-suits in lockers along the left wall. Along the other wall was a large, indestructible pane of Actionglass that looked into a much larger, dimly-lit room containing electronic equipment, LCDs, two large containers holding yellowish-brown fluids and an array of other technological apparatus that Sempre didn’t know the names of.

  “Please put on suit No. 3, Mr. Sempre,” said Bigsby. “It will fit you perfectly, sir.”

  Sempre walked over to the third casing from the end and stood in front of it. He removed his shoes as the front panel of the locker concertina’d inwards and a protective suit began to move out with a low swchuuuuuuummmm sound.