Upon Stilted Cities - The Winds of Change

by Michael Kilman

  “Fallman, what in the hell happened?”

  His rasping breath and gasps for every ounce of air made his words spread apart like butter melting on a hot stove.

  “The chair... A bomb... found it... doing... calibration... tried to... run.... went... off... I... tried...”

  "Save your breath, Fallman, let's get you to the nearest medical alcove."

  “AI–”

  “–Sir, the nearest medical grade alcove is on floor 14.”

  In the back of his mind, Daniels noted that once again the AI didn't wait for a query. He didn’t like that, but he supposed that the AI was monitoring the situation and based on that it could guess the appropriate course of action for that scenario. Still, he would have a little chat with the AI as soon as Fallman was in an alcove.

  “Long, Naples, let’s get Fallman on a stretcher and get him down to the 17th floor.”

  Both men responded and moved over to a small panel just along one wall. They slid out a small object and placed it next to Fallman. Long pressed a button and watched as it transformed from a small, enclosed object into a large, inflatable but rigid, medical-grade stretcher. The stretcher slid underneath Fallman and straps came out of the underside. The straps secured Fallman’s neck, shoulders, and ankles. It whined with a low hum and raised itself up off the ground and on four legs.

  Daniels stood next to the stretcher, reached his hand out and touched Fallman's intact shoulder. “Heal up, Fallman. We'll chat more about what happened later. You saved my life. I won’t forget that.”

  Fallman said nothing. He blinked at Daniels, and Daniels took that as an acknowledgment.

  Long and Naples directed the stretcher as they moved into the lift. The lift door closed behind them.

  It was true that after the previous day's encounter, Daniels didn’t care much for Fallman, but he wouldn’t have wished him harm. Now he felt guilty; the kid had saved his life with those calibrations. If Daniels had been sitting in this chair when the bomb went off...

  The kid would get a promotion for this. Sure, he was banged up, but Daniels had seen worse wounds go into the medical alcoves and come out as nothing had happened. A few scars wouldn’t kill the kid. Fallman would be in that bed for a day or so, but when he woke up, he would be almost as good as new. The medical-grade alcoves were much more powerful than the standard anti-aging, anti-disease alcoves.

  His mind turned back to the situation at hand. A bomb. A gods-damned bomb in his chair? Was Patton’s death just a diversion? A way of getting Daniels and most of the other members of security out of central security so they could rig the chair to blow? There was a traitor in their midst, someone who had every intention of compromising city security. Only a member of security could get clearance to come up here, and there is no way that the AI wouldn’t have...

  The AI has been offline. Shit, that’s why the damn thing was off, it had nothing to do with a diagnostic.

  “AI who deactivated you.”

  “Sir, my records show that I deactivated myself.”

  This was troubling, not only was the traitor in security, but they were clever enough to deactivate the AI and make it think it had deactivated itself. This was bad, really bad.

  Why was all this happening now? Was it one of the other cities planning an attack? Langeles had been nearby, hadn't it?

  The AI said, "Incoming report from Runner 17.”

  There it was. Another piece of the puzzle. In the wake of all the chaos, he had forgotten the recon mission. His guts squirmed. Somehow, he knew that whatever 17 had to say was connected to everything else.

  “What the hell is C.O.G.,” he said to no one in particular.

  “I am sorry, Sir, I still don’t—"

  “Not you, you talking toaster.”

  “My apologies, Sir.”

  “Put 17 up on the main screen.”

  The image was fuzzy from interference. There was a small sandstorm between 17 and Manhatsten. It was powerful enough to kill a Runner, but the city had enough protection to hold out against a small storm like this one.

  17 came into view. Caked with sand and dust, 17’s face was barely visible through his helmet. Daniels had a hunch that the reckless bastard had gone right through the storm instead of around like any sane person would have.

  “Yes, 17?”

  17 didn’t respond right away. Instead he switched from his face camera to his external palm camera and raised his hand up to show Daniels exactly what he had for him.

  Dread filled him, and gooseflesh rippled up the length of his legs, climbing all the way to the back of his skull.

  “Holy Jesus. Is that what I think it is?”

  Pieces of the city lay strewn all over the open Barrens. Entire buildings lay sideways on the ground, already disconnected from the city's raised bedrock. Thousands of small dots lay just outside each building in the gravel, rock, and sand. It became clear to Daniels that those tiny dots were bodies, the bodies of people who had tried to flee the collapsed city, without an oxygen tank or protection from the heat. He had seen that happen to a Runner once before, their faceplate destroyed and the environmental control damaged. Runner 683 had cooked inside his suit. When they had recovered him, he had been like a piece of beef jerky. Daniels shuddered.

  Major Daniels had never seen anything like it. Several of the legs were missing, and the rest propped the basin of the city at an odd angle. One side of the city stuck up into the air while the other side rested on the earth. What in the hell had happened to the legs? He had never heard of another city attacking its opponent’s legs before. It was almost taboo. No city ever really wanted to destroy another, human life was just too rare and precious. Then he remembered the conversation he had had with Travers only the day before about the resources running low. He gritted his teeth. Was this the beginning? No. It couldn’t be if another city had done this, why were there so many resources left?

  “Did you find out what in the hell caused this? Was there another city involved?”

  “No. But these ruins are fresh. No clue what in the hell happened here. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

  “Neither have I."

  “It gets worse. I was checking the perimeter and... well...”

  17’s camera shifted up and to the far left of the ruins. In the camera, 17 had his AI show a small dot. Daniels couldn’t make it out, all he saw was the most minuscule of movement.

  “What am I looking at?”

  17 zoomed in. The dot was pixelated, but he thought it almost looked human shaped.

  17 said, “War.”

  “What?”

  “I said you are looking at the beginning of a war.”

  All at once, Daniels realized what he saw. It was a Runner and not one from Manhatsten.

  Daniels chewed the side of his cheek. What in the hell was happening? Just yesterday everything was normal. Now he had a dead engineer, his station blown to pieces, an injured security officer, a crazy AI, and a demolished city. The whole gods-damned world seemed to be coming apart at the seams.

  “Well if that ain’t just another piece of shit in my cereal. It’s been a hell of a few days. You better get your ass back here now and make sure you upload every single image to the AI as you’re moving.”

  “Already done.” 17 replied.

  Daniels grunted approval. “Just get back here yesterday, no time to waste now.”

  “Yeah well, there is a sandstorm in the way.”

  “What? Oh. Yeah. Have the AI plot you an alternate route to the Dugger extraction. You should be able to go around and still make good time.”

  “Gods-damned AI didn’t even alert me of the storm in the first place. I had to get... creative.”

  “Sir,” Manhatsten AI’s chimed in, and Daniels noted once again, without query. “Upon a review of recent events reported by 17’s AI, he was not made aware of the sandstorm because he had turned off all notifications.”

  Daniels rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time to arg
ue with 17, and he knew if he got drawn into it, 17 would argue for hours. The reckless shit had nothing better to do, or at least he thought he didn’t. 17 wasn’t outfitted for combat, only recon. He had to get back here and change his EnViro suit and prep for battle. He would need 17; he was one of the best fighters he had, even if he was an asshole.

  “Just get back here. I don’t care if you dig a gods-damned tunnel to China and back.”

  “What? China? Huh?” 17 seemed to feign ignorance.

  “You heard me, and we both know you know what the hell China was.”

  “Oh yeah, visited several times, beautiful women, great opium. Maybe China is a great destination. You know, one time I—”

  Daniels disconnected the link; it was time for the real work to begin.

  Chapter 11

  State of Emergency

  Tera Reevas walked along the last sky bridge that led to the entrance to the Senate building. She stopped in the middle and stared out the side. The mazes of metal and glass gleamed in the reflection of the shield-tinged sun. Below, she could see the people movers darting up and down the lanes. Mostly though, people walked.

  In the few trees that marked the pavement, birds and bees fluttered. It had taken a monumental effort to keep both creatures alive, and at least once a year, the Senate had to pass some sort of legislation on the non-human species in the city. The damn scientists of the scholar school had insisted that having some non-human species in the city was essential to everyone's survival. She could understand a few of them, but mosquitos? Rats? Why did they keep the pests around?

  “Senator Reevas?”

  She looked up over her shoulder. A short, rotund man with patchy blonde hair and thick jowls stood behind her. She turned toward him.

  "Yes, Senator Swanson?"

  Swanson said, “Come, Senator.” He gestured toward himself. “You’re very late, as usual. We have been waiting for you.” His tone was tired and agitated. He turned and walked through the open door to the chambers. Tera followed.

  “Your page has a copy of today’s agenda in-hand already. Please take your place quickly, as there is much to attend to in this session.”

  Tera nodded but did not reply. Her mind was on the poster. Even a few days after her encounter with it, she was still feeling ill.

  The Senate door closed behind her as she entered the room. She would think later, that it was then that everything went to hell.

  2.

  Dr. Rigel Solidsworth could feel the eyes casting down upon him as he entered the Senate floor. Above, around, and in front of him, looming eyes waited for his statement. This was a good moment, a proud moment. They would listen. They had to listen.

  Standing there alone, it reminded him of the first time he had stood in this place, standing shoulder to shoulder with his fellow scientists. Once the headquarters of the United Nations, delegates around the world listened as they had resurrected the idea for the stilted cities. It had just been theoretical then, but he and his colleagues had known the idea would work. His discovery of the super strong and extremely light metal Solidsonium, inside the moon's core, had made it all possible.

  Now, more than a thousand years later, he had just as much right to be proud of what he had to offer. This time, there was no simple theory. Instead, he had evidence of a working demonstration of artificial gravity. Still, there were a few in the Senate who were itching to remove Solidsworth from his lab.

  This was a much more hostile crowd than the United Nations had been all those years ago. The world was desperate then. At that time, the UN had been open to any ideas or suggestions that would help humanity to survive.

  Here they were again, in a dire situation but most did not realize it. They did not understand that most of them would see war within a few years unless they took drastic action. Rigel hoped that he could convince them that the gravitational generator was the solution.

  He opened his mouth to speak, felt something catch in his throat, coughed a few times and spoke.

  “Senators, thank you for allowing me to speak in this session. I thank you for your time. I know that you are forever busy with the job of governing this great city. I–”

  “Get to the point, old man,” said Senator Reevas.

  Rigel had heard that it was Reevas and Green that had drawn up the amendment for the revisions to the city charter. They had both campaigned for the removal of Rigel’s privileges and the end to his research. He tasted something bitter in his throat. He wanted to spit but held back.

  “With all respect, Dr. Solidsworth, please forgive Senator Reevas’s rather blunt interruption,” said the Speaker of the Senate, Senator Swanson. Rigel saw the Speaker give Senator Reevas a sharp glance. “But she isn’t wrong." He breathed a heavy sigh. "We have a great number of issues on our agenda today, and so we would prefer if you state why you have come rather quickly.”

  Rigel blinked for a moment and regained his composure. “My apologies. Members of the Senate. You will be happy to know that as of this morning, I have successfully completed a machine that will create and sustain artificial gravity.”

  Rigel flicked on the large projector at the front of the Senate Chambers. He played a video. It showed the machine levitating a number of different objects within the chamber, including Dennis, who floated around the room with a giant grin on his face, imitating a backstroke and various other kinds of swimming.

  The large oval room with red velvet seats and fading golden railings flooded with murmurs as the Senators and their staff conferred with one another. Echoes like smoke, filling the large room.

  A single voice rose over the ocean of noise. “And how of this of any concern to us?” said Tera Reevas. Her tone was sharp and biting, but Rigel had expected her question, had known that she or Senator Green would try to derail this important breakthrough.

  “The Senate may recall that the ability to create artificial gravity has several applications. The first of which is that it allows for long-term space exploration–”

  “We are not interested in space exploration,” said Senator Reevas.

  “Senator Reevas,” The Speaker’s voice boomed and filled the entire chamber, sending echoes like shivers into every corner of the hall. “You do not speak for all of us in this matter, please let Dr. Solidsworth speak.”

  Rigel took a deep breath. He knew that Speaker Swanson, a man curious about the stars, was one of his few allies left in the Senate. He was also one of the oldest Senators, the son of a man who had worked with Rigel on several scientific experiments in the early days of migration. That he was Speaker was one of the few reasons that no revision to the city charter had gone forward. The Speaker had the power of veto, and thus far, those in favor of revisions to the Charter could not garner the three-fourths vote required to overturn the veto, but they were getting dangerously close, and Rigel knew it.

  Rigel could feel the sweat gathering in beads on his forehead and under his arms. His stomach screamed in agony from his nervousness. He tugged a little at the collar of his lab coat. He had never been much of a public speaker, and until the last few decades, there had always been other architects or assistants to speak for him. He no longer had that luxury.

  “Long-term space travel, as I said, is not only one application of the gravitational generator. Another application of this technology, if installed across the city, would cut our power consumption during migration by 82% and would likely allow our top land-speed to triple. Which, as some of you may realize, could make a very large difference in our ability to extract resources from previously inaccessible sites.”

  Several senators looked at each other, but the murmuring from before did not continue.

  “Doctor Solidsworth, could you please explain how this new technology would cut power consumption so drastically?” said Senator Avis.

  Rigel smiled. Avis, a tall, gaunt man with slicked-back black hair, was one of those Senators that had been on the fence about the charter revisions. If he could convince a few
of those senators to support him, he would have a better chance to implement more of his research.

  Rigel knew what most of the Senate thought of him. They thought him a babbling old fool long past his expiration date, that his ideas weren’t productive or useful. So few understand that good science takes time, that in order for you to create anything of great significance, you had to fail many times.

  They also didn't realize, that when the other architects were killed, he lost some of the genius required to make progress, and though the scholar school occasionally handed him someone brilliant, a true genius, like Dennis, was rare.

  “Certainly, as the good senators know, during migration, a sophisticated hydraulic system is used to power the legs of the city. The city weighs tens of billions of kilograms, and the power consumption for migration is staggeringly high. If not for the solar-hydrogen fusion system, we would not have the means to power the city’s motion at all. By installing gravitational generators around the city, we could create a gravitational field that would distort Earth’s normal gravity in our local field and would artificially lessen the weight of the city, thus putting a great deal less strain on the legs. Of course, in a longer-term application, we could also consider creating a kind of hover engine that would allow for the city to glide over any surface rather than walk, but I am afraid that is still a few years away.”

  “Are there other applications?” asked Senator Swanson. His tone was sincere and curious.

  “Well yes, of course, in theory, there are practically limitless applications with the ability to control gravity. Why, we may even consider outfitting a few probes with such technology and eliminating the need for the Runnercore. We can even create gravitational shields around these probes that would be much better protection from storms than the EnViro shields have ever been.

  Several Senators looked sharply at one another, but none said a word. Rigel wasn’t blind to the fact that the Senators had no real desire to end the Runnercore, but he couldn’t help but highlight all the applications of his invention.