David stopped suddenly as realization of this memory washed over him. He turned to Calvin. “I had a wife. I have a wife,” he paused. “Have or had, I'm not sure.”
“Finally starting to remember?” Calvin arched his right eyebrow.
“Yeah—the climb now—it triggered something. We had our honeymoon in Mexico.” He stopped, forced his mind to relax, and continued, “It was winter—January I think. I remember thinking about the rest of my family and friends, stuck back at home in the cold while we were tramping through jungles in 80-degree heat.”
“Be careful of what memories you call your own. Just because you remember it doesn’t mean it happened. Your mind’s mixed up, David. There are no jungles anymore—and no one's been out vacationing on the land for almost 100 years. I think your memories are getting garbled with videos you've seen of the old world. A little too much time watching holofilms.”
As quickly as it had come, David's surge of excitement vanished. Calvin was right. There was no way he had been to Mexico. The world was inhospitable to man now. Whatever he remembered, it hadn't actually happened—or at least he hadn't been there. It must have been something recalled from his subconscious.
“Maybe I am from the city. How else would I have seen a holofilm?”
“Excellent point—maybe once we're back you'll start to remember more,” Calvin conceded. “But if somehow your memories start to return, and you discover you're the head of the Progressive army, I'll have to kill you.”
From the look on his face, David could tell the man wasn’t joking.
The inside of the station was far busier than Vonshine's had been the night before. Hundreds of people milled about the interior, most of them dressed in business suits, but some wore less formal clothing. Jeans, t-shirts … stupid hats.
Who're they?” asked David, nodding his head in the direction of a family.
“Vacationers. The city's self-enclosed and a few hundred feet above sea level. Now that the shore has been declared safe, Bandleshore’s a popular travel destination for city-dwellers looking for a cheap getaway. They’re probably on their way home from a little trip to whatever nature we can still safely enjoy. At this end of the tracks they have access to beaches and can swim in the ocean—though they advise against it due to the poison level in the water from land runoff. But still, they come.”
David's eyes strayed from the family to take in the station’s substantial size. From the inside it stretched further than he imagined when he first saw it from the exterior. The metal beams from the sand continued to run up the sides of the building at various angles, with smaller supporting beams interjected throughout, crisscrossing in a geometric firework display of angles. Between the beams, vast sheets of salt-caked glass provided the only separation between the inside and the air blowing in off the sea. The whole thing reminded David of a greenhouse—an architecturally fantastic greenhouse.
On the far side of the station a stretch of what appeared to be some sort of rail or track ran out into the sea. People lingered along the side of it, waiting for the next train to arrive. A security gate separated David and Calvin from this area.
“Time to put Finniman's work to the test,” said Calvin, walking toward the turnstiles.
“What am I supposed to do if something happens?”
“Like what?”
“I don't know, like an alarm or something.”
“Are you kidding? There won't be any alarm—not in a place this busy. They're trying to avoid admitting there's a war brewing. As far as most people are concerned, life is finally improving. The government is fixing everything. Soon they'll be back on land ... and soon they'll be able to destroy it all again,” Calvin replied. “No, there won't be an alarm—you won't realize you've set off the system until you’re too late. If something goes wrong here, it will go very wrong. Wrong as in they'll shut you down wrong.
“Get this clear—if you're ever found out as an undesirable and they have a DNA match in a closed area like this, you're done for. They'll send out a swarm of nanobots and those bots will hone in on your DNA structure and invade. In a matter of seconds, they'll shut down your muscular system—and all it will look like to onlookers is like you've fainted. A medical crew will rush out, strap you to a gurney, wheel you away and place you under arrest. And if you're on the terror list, like I am, there will be no trial and you'll never be heard of or seen from again.”
David swallowed. God, please don't let me be a terrorist, he thought, and proceeded to walk towards the turnstiles.
“Here, you'll need this. Swipe it through the scanner.” Calvin handed David a paper ticket. “See you on the other side.”
The turnstiles looked no different from those in a subway, or at least those in a video of a subway. After swiping his card, the turnstile unlocked and he walked through, following Calvin. As he did so, a row of blue lights flickered on the ceiling and he averted his eyes instinctively.
“Sir, you need to be scanned,” said a female voice.
David's heart raced as panic set in. “Who, me?” His eyes searched for an exit and caught Calvin. “Stay calm,” Calvin mouthed.
“Sir—look up sir.”
David's eyes continued to search, now for the source of the voice.
“You need to be scanned, sir.”
The voice came from overhead. He scanned the ceiling and found a strip of electric blue lights.
“Thank you, sir. You may proceed.” The voice was a recording, spouted from a small speaker above David's turnstile.
Sweat dripped down David’s forehead and he scurried across back to Calvin's side.
“Looks to me like Finniman's still got the gift, regardless of what he thinks,” said Calvin.
After a short wait, an electronic bell rang out. At first David thought it was a clock, marking the hour, but soon realized it was an alarm announcing the arrival of the morning mag-train. A set of lights began to flash, orange and yellow, and the train pulled into the station. The doors opened, and a few people strode out. Not many visitors came into the town in the morning—it seemed traffic worked in the opposite direction this time of day.
“Go find someplace to sit. We may have gotten through the scanners, but that doesn't mean no one's going to recognize me. We’ll be safer splitting up for now.” Calvin moved down the train toward the front, exiting their current car and moving on to the next.
Alone in a metal tube full of strangers, David’s breath quickened as he realized once again he was alone and oblivious to the world around him. He took a seat on the nearest bench. The man next to him was familiar—a patron from Vonshine's the night before, now barely recognizable in his shabby business suit. David considered striking up a conversation, but after further consideration decided against it. His mind was on overload already with all he learned in the past few days. Anything more and it was liable to explode.
After a few minutes the train began to move. It was a smooth ride, with the train riding on a cushion of air from its opposing pole magnetic flotation system. David marveled at how quickly the train gained speed, and at how quiet the whole thing operated. This is nothing like riding the subway, he thought. Well, except for the stink of people.
As the train sped out across the ocean the travelers inside moved about, the first-timers forced their way to the windows to take in the view of the wide expanse of water spread out before them. Several pointed excitedly at a pod of whales rising and falling in the distant waves, water spraying high into the air when they exhaled as they broke the water’s surface. This kept David’s attention for part of the ride as well; he marveled at the beauty of nature when it was left to its own devices, uninhibited by man’s overbearing hand. His attention diverted, however, when the door to the next car opened and someone new stepped in.
Tall and pale, the man stood on a pair of thin white legs and boasted a disproportionately massive, bald head—like a cross-breed between a regular human and one of the aliens from classic sci-fi movies, or an ol
d X-Files episode. An air of reverence surrounded him, as did a group of admiring women, like an old Persian harem. But unlike the harems, these women dressed professionally, in suits like those worn by the business men commuting into the city from Bandleshore. David was amazed at this, these women were surely accomplished members of society, yet they attached themselves to this tall geek with adoration and a look of lust in their eyes. Surely this must be one of The Progressives Calvin had mentioned.
Rather than speculate, David thought it best to confirm his suspicions. He turned to the man in the seat next to him and asked directly, “Is he a Progressive?”
The man regarded David with shock and disgust. “Heathen!” he said, accusingly.
“Excuse me?” David asked, confused.
“How dare you call someone that?”
“I-I’m sorry,” David apologized. “I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to offend.”
“Well, one can’t help one’s upbringing,” the man replied. “But if you’re planning on spending any time in civilized society, you should realize that name is not a word to be bandied about. They’re above offense, of course, but their idolizers are not. They’d gladly kill you and face the legal consequence rather than allow someone—” he paused to look David up and down with a withering glare, “especially someone of your ilk—to speak poorly of their darlings.”
“Thanks for the tip. Again, I didn’t mean to offend.”
“As I said, one can’t be blamed for one’s nature,” the man replied. “And to answer your question, yes, he’s one of your so-called ‘Progressives.’” He sneered as he said the word. “Henry Johnson, I believe. One of the young diplomats in the New Society. I’ve heard fine things about him, and terrible things as well. You’d do best to keep your mouth shut and your wits about you in his presence.”
Deciding it in his health’s best interest, David remained silent the rest of the train ride. Off and on he stole clandestine glances at the man and the women gathered around him. He couldn’t see what the fuss was all about; the man was unremarkable, his skin wax-like and his musculature almost nonexistent. If David hadn’t been told otherwise, and had the man not been surrounded by a gaggle of gooey-eyed women, he would have dismissed him as a weak, socially inept geek.
About twenty minutes into the ride, the attention of the first-timers moved from the sea and they craned their necks to look forward toward the front of the train.
“Arriving in Plasticity in two minutes. Please take your seats and secure your belongings,” a voice rang out through the train’s speaker system.
David scooted over in his seat and pressed his face against the window in hopes of catching a glimpse of this plastic city on the sea from the outside. What he saw took his breath away. Situated on a series of metal beams, like those supporting the structure of the station at Bandleshore, was what resembled a gigantic glass ball. The entire sphere was clear, and the train track disappeared into it at ground level, about a third of the way up. In the area below street-level, David discovered a complex system of immense gears, turning mechanisms and color-coded electronic systems. This secondary sublevel separated into numerous distinct levels of its own with human engineers and robots alike scurrying about like ants in a child’s toy farm.
Each level became smaller and more crowded as the ball narrowed and neared sea level, making it increasingly difficult to make out the area inside. The windows there at the bottom were crusted over with sea salt and long-dead barnacles. Waves rolled gently about fifty more feet below. The water must have been higher at some point, David thought, or else the barnacles never would have grown—not that high up. When the city was built it must have rested at sea level, like a fish bowl floating on the ocean’s surface, ironically filled with people for all the fish to come and see.
Above ground level, a city thrust up as high as the round walls would allow. In the center of the city the buildings stood the tallest, their peaks almost scraping the top of the globe. At the edges the buildings curved in a warped sync with the rounded edges of the glass walls surrounding the city. Space was obviously limited, and the city had been engineered for maximum three-dimensional efficiency. Nearly all of the buildings reached to the top of the globe, becoming shorter the farther from the city’s center they stood.
The train slowed, and a glass panel slid open in the side of the globe where the tracks met its edge. The train rolled in and David’s jaw dropped as he caught his first glimpse of the actual city of Plasticity—a split-second before a thunderous explosion tore through the train.
His first glimpse of future society was stolen instantly—replaced with a flash of light, a searing pain, and blackness.
TEN
HOME SWEET HOME
“David! Oh God, David, wake up!” Alice’s voice shook with fear as she urged David back to consciousness. One hand gripped his arm like a fearful vice, while her other rested gently against his forehead, fingertips gently stroking his hair. She resisted the urge to shake him, not knowing if it would cause more harm.
“The ambulance is on its way. Don't worry honey, everything will be okay.”
David groggily opened his eyes, the sunlight in the room sending sharp pains through his head as he did so.
“Alice? Is that you?” His vision wavered, unable to focus. But as he touched her face, his fingertips found the same familiar curves and laugh lines of the woman he loved. “Are you crying?” he asked.
“Of course I'm crying!” Tears flowed freely down her face, dripping onto the duvet. She rubbed her eyes, smearing her mascara. “How long have you been like this? I tried calling and you didn't answer, but I didn't think much of it.” Globules of snot bubbled from her nose
“You're back already?” he asked as the fog of sleep began to lift from his mind.
“Today’s Sunday, David. We came back early when we didn’t hear from you. How long have you been out? What happened?”
David attempted to sit, the mattress damp and squishy beneath him. However long he had been out, it was long enough to soil himself. As he leaned forward, his stomach lurched, and he vomited. Alice gently pushed him back down onto his bed.
“I'll find some towels and help you clean up.”
Slowly and deliberately, Alice worked to clean David and to change his clothes, all the while fighting back tears as she urged him to lay still. Any movement, she feared, could only exacerbate any damage already done. After a few minutes, sirens sounded in the distance, their piercing wail intensifying through the cool Sunday air as they approached the house. Alice ran downstairs at the ring of the doorbell and David heard the soft, anxious voices of his children in the hall outside his room.
“Is Daddy going to be okay?” Aiden asked as Missy began to cry.
He needed to run to them, to tell them everything would be fine. In his mind he pictured the two of them, his little darlings, huddled together in the hallway, comforting each other while they worried about what might happen to their Daddy. But even though he wanted to, he found himself unable to move. “Daddy’s fine,” he whispered, though no one could hear him. “I promise you I’ll…”
David faded in and out of consciousness, and soon sensed the presence of EMTs. Each bump as they carried his motionless body down the stairs shook through him, sending his head into fits of ravaging pain. He did his best to distance himself from the agony, pressing his eyes shut to avoid the stinging brilliance of the morning sun. Still, the combination of motion and pain took their toll, and he passed out before they lifted him into the ambulance.
Alice gathered her sobbing children and ushered them into her own car, remaining as stoic as she could amidst the chaos. The ambulance pulled out, sirens wailing, and the Sparks family followed the flashing lights as they rushed the Man of the House to Liberty Hospital.
ELEVEN
OPEN-APPLE-C
The steady beep of the monitors woke him. As he came out of his sleep, unfamiliar voices filled the room in a clamor of hushed conversation.
“The file system's repaired and network connections are fully restored,” said a woman. “Everything's copied back to the way it was, or at least as close as the diagnostic repair system could manage. He spent quite some time in the FloatNet. Hopefully we got all the bits and pieces out of there and properly reverted back to the previous restore point.”
“Exemplary work, Juliet,” a man replied. “Ray, bring him out of stasis.”
A second man spoke. Ray, David assumed. “It looks like he's coming out on his own, sir.”
“Even better,” said the first man. “The system's coming online on its own. A positive sign. Means everything's operational and eager to boot up.”
David opened his eyes and found himself in what appeared to be a hospital room. Three strangers in scrubs stood at the foot of his bed, their bodies stark against the colorless walls. The woman and one of the men wore uniforms of frigid blue, while the other man wore the same sterile white as the walls. They noticed his open eyes and ceased talking, David their sole focus.
“Mr. Sparks!” the man in white exclaimed. David recognized the man's voice as the one he assumed to be the others’ superior. “Welcome back! How are you feeling?”
Having only been conscious for no more than a minute or two, David still couldn’t comprehend the situation, nor where he was. He blinked, stretched his arms, flexed the ache from his fingers and sat up.
“Don't—” the woman tried to stop him but was too late. As he leaned forward a sharp yank tugged at the base of his skull. He reached back and met a bundle of wires connected to a metal bracket newly implanted on the back of his head.
“Is this the Matrix?” he asked.
The man in white laughed. “Of course not! Although I suppose this does share some similarities to that silly relic.”
The Unfortunate Expiration of Mr David S Sparks Page 5
