Revolution

by Shawn Davis

  “You’ve got to be kidding me! Now we can’t even eat lunch in peace?” Henry shouted a few seconds later when he thought it was safe to uncover his head and look up. He watched as bright orange flames flickered out from what was left of the glass walls of the nearby travel agency. Pieces of wall, furniture, and human beings lay spread around the agency in charred, smoking piles.

  “They’re getting bolder and bolder. Those bastards,” Peter said, upon viewing the carnage.

  “Terrorists!” Billy shouted. “They had to pick that place to blow up? We could have been killed! Let’s get out of here.”

  “I’m with that,” Henry said, standing from the bench and walking hurriedly in the opposite direction of what used to be the travel agency.

  Peter and Billy followed. As they rushed away, leaving what was left of their lunches on the bench, Peter felt a surge of guilt about the “beautiful people” comment he made just before the place blew up. Now, the “beautiful people” were spread all over the moving sidewalk in pieces.

  Chapter 4

  Aftermath

  Three bodies lay stretched out on the floor of the yacht’s luxurious suite. Two were dead. One was alive. The body of a man wearing a black tuxedo lay face-up next to the table with two bloody red holes in the center of its chest. The body of the Senator lay on the other side of the table with a white cloth, soaked with blood, draped over its face. The live body lying next to the Senator belonged to a woman being operated on with a laser scalpel.

  “That ought to do it,” the woman wielding the scalpel said to the woman on the floor.

  “It’s about time, doc,” Karyn Brennon said as she stood guard by the doorway holding her automatic pistol. She had watched the hour-long operation with fascination, but she was glad it was over.

  “Let’s see you try to do what I did in less than an hour,” the doctor said.

  “You know I’m only teasing. I couldn’t even stitch up a cut. I’m only good at inflicting wounds, not fixing them,” Karyn replied.

  “We all have our special skills that we dedicate to the cause,” the doctor commented, placing the laser scalpel back in the briefcase alongside the other electronic surgical instruments.

  “Of course we do, doctor. Can we go now?” Karyn asked.

  “Absolutely. Let’s get this assignment over with,” the doctor agreed.

  “What about me? Can I get up now?” the woman lying on the floor asked.

  “Sure, you’re all set, Cassandra,” the doctor replied, shutting her briefcase and walking toward the doorway where Karyn stood guard.

  The woman lying on the floor next to the body of the Senator sat up. Cassandra Watson’s face was now an exact likeness of the Senator’s. Every line and contour matched up perfectly. She stood and examined her fingers, which had been surgically altered with the laser scalpel to match the fingerprints of the Senator.

  “Well, hello Senator Keating,” Karyn said.

  Cassandra grinned as she rubbed the artificial skin on her cheeks and felt the altered contours of her face.

  “How do I look?” she asked.

  “Exactly like the Senator. I always knew I was an artist,” the doctor said, standing in the doorway with Karyn and smiling with genuine pride upon observing her handiwork.

  “You know what to do from here, right?” Karyn asked the clone.

  “I’m good to go. You guys take off,” Cassandra replied.

  Brennon left the suite with the doctor, leaving Cassandra alone. The pseudo-Senator stepped over the body of the real Senator and drank from a glass of wine she found at the nearby table, which still had its sumptuous dinner spread across its surface. She stood an overturned chair upright and wiped the blood from it with a white napkin. Sitting down, she proceeded to eat the remains of the lobster dinner.

  Several minutes later, a man entered the suite.

  “Hey, I told you not to start dinner without me,” Nick Fahey said, smiling as he approached the table.

  Fahey holstered his automatic pistol and sat down in the seat across from hers.

  “It still looks good,” he observed.

  “It is good,” she said between mouthfuls.

  “We can’t let it go to waste,” Fahey said, picking up a gold fork and stabbing a chunk of lobster cracked from the shell earlier by the man lying on the floor in a puddle of blood.

  “So, it’s just the four of us now?” the Senator’s clone asked.

  “Yep, Burke and Cassidy are at the controls. They told me we’ll reach the capitol city in twenty minutes.”

  “Then we’d better get ready.”

  ********

  Peter was stunned from the incident, but his quota was too large to talk about what happened during the remainder of the workday. At 6 PM when he was out the door, he couldn’t talk about anything else.

  “Those fucking terrorists will be the death of us,” Peter said. “Did I tell you guys about the explosion I heard when I came to work this morning?”

  “No, what happened?” Henry asked as they cut across the main employee parking lot.

  “When I walked in the door, the floor trembled and I heard an explosion in the distance that sounded like a lightning strike.”

  “That must have been a big one,” Henry said.

  “The one in the mall was big enough for me,” Ryder muttered.

  “You’re not safe anywhere nowadays! Even in the mall!” Henry exclaimed as they walked down an aisle between two long rows of ground cars.

  “You ain’t kidding, Henry. We could have been killed. I hope they catch the bastards who did it,” Peter said.

  “I hope they kill the bastards who did it,” Billy added.

  “If the damn economy wasn’t so fucked up, people wouldn’t have to go around blowing up buildings,” Henry said.

  “Are you kidding me? That’s no excuse. They’re nothing but murderers,” Peter argued, scowling at Henry as they walked. “No, I take that back. They’re butchers.”

  “You got that right,” Billy said, lighting a cigarette.

  “You guys don’t know the whole story,” Henry muttered as they neared the end of the parking lot.

  “What’s to know? The terrorists kill innocent people,” Billy said.

  “Yeah, but they try not to. Have you ever noticed that most of the buildings they bomb are empty at the time?” Henry asked.

  “That building we saw bombed today wasn’t empty!” Peter shouted.

  “It must have been a mistake,” Henry said.

  “That’s a pretty lethal mistake for the people inside the travel agency.”

  “I agree. But you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. Have you guys ever noticed what businesses get bombed?” Henry asked as they stepped out of the parking lot onto a busy sidewalk.

  They tried to ignore the loud motors of the ground cars as they drove past them. Occasionally, they felt the breeze from an anti-grav vehicle as it passed overhead.

  “What difference does it make?” Billy asked.

  “A big difference. They only blow up businesses that are affiliated with the government,” Henry said. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but our government has been screwing the people for as long as I can remember,”

  “I know the government sucks, but those people in the travel agency weren’t affiliated with the government in any way. Why blow them up?” Billy asked, sucking in a lungful of smoke and blowing it out.

  “I don’t know,” Henry said. “I can’t figure that one out.”

  “There’s nothing to figure out,” Peter said. “They should all be executed. End of story.”

  “Peter, you need to wake up. Our society is falling apart,” Henry said. “There’s a twenty percent unemployment rate. You’ve seen all the homeless and unemployed on the streets. You know what it’s like in our neighborhood.”

  “Henry, our neighbordhood is falling apart, but it’s been like that for years. We get by okay there,” Peter said.

  “That still
doesn’t make it right.”

  “Henry, I agree with you that the government should do something about getting the homeless and unemployed off the streets, but that doesn’t have anything to do with blowing up buildings,” Peter said.

  “You always were naïve, Peter. Even after getting screwed so many times. You lost your job as a computer programmer, you lost your nice apartment downtown, your expensive car, your good salary. What’s it going to take to wake you up?” Henry asked, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and grabbing his friend by the shoulders.

  Peter reacted as if he had been struck in the face. His complexion turned pale as he brushed Henry’s arms off with a lightning-quick motion and seized him by his jacket collar.

  “I do all right for myself, Henry. I don’t need you telling me what to think,” Peter growled, as his eyes glinted with fury and a maniacal expression crossed over his face, so his friend didn’t recognize him for a moment.

  A few seconds later, he realized what he was doing and let go of Henry’s collar. Henry turned away and began walking ahead of his friends on the sidewalk.

  “You had to open your big mouth about his old job, didn’t you Henry? You know that always sets him off! How would you feel if you went from making ninety grand a year to less than twenty grand a year practically overnight?” Billy admonished Henry.

  “We all have our problems, Ryder,” Henry said, glaring at his friend with a venomous expression.

  “Whatever, Henry,” Billy muttered, as he placed several feet between himself and his friend as he concentrated on the cracks in the sidewalk.

  They entered a bustling retail section of the city. Swarms of people crowded the sidewalks, coming and going from city stores. The friends had to constantly weave in and out to avoid pedestrian collisions. They approached an impressive-looking church on the right that looked like a medieval castle. Men in expensive suits accompanied women wearing extravagant dresses up a set of marble steps and through the front doors. One of the men glanced down and shook his head at the sight of an old homeless man sitting on the edge of the wide steps. Written in bold gold letters above the church door were the words, “AMERICA’S CHURCH” and below that “ALL ARE WELCOME.”

  “Now that’s exactly what I was talking about before,” Henry said, pointing to the elderly homeless man on the front steps of the church holding an empty hat in his lap.

  Peter heard what Henry said and stopped to see what he was talking about. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk as pedestrians continued to walk by him, giving him annoyed glances as if he were holding up foot traffic. Peter watched Henry approach the old man, reach into his pocket, and pull out his wallet.

  “Henry, what the hell are you doing? Put your damn wallet away! Someone is going to snatch it,” Billy exclaimed, staring at the wallet with wide eyes.

  “You’re too paranoid, Ryder,” Henry said, casually, taking out a ten dollar bill and handing it to the homeless man.

  The old man’s eyes widened with surprise as he reached up to take the bill with a trembling hand. “Thank you, mister. I really appreciate it,” he said.

  “No problem, buddy,” Henry said, patting him on the shoulder.

  “Henry, are you nuts! He’s just gonna spend that money on booze or drugs!” Billy shouted.

  “Chill out, Ryder. It’s my money,” Henry replied. “How long have you been sitting out here?” Henry asked the old man.

  What the hell is Henry up to this time? Peter thought.

  “I’ve been here for a couple hours,” the old man said.

  Henry looked in the hat and saw two dimes, a quarter, and three nickels.

  “And that’s all you got?”

  “I’m afraid so, mister.”

  “Cheap bastards,” Henry said loud enough for a young, well-dressed couple entering the church to hear him. The woman frowned at him and he grinned back at her.

  Oh fuck, look who’s coming, Peter thought as he spotted a blue metallic gleam within an approaching crowd of pedestrians. It was the unmistakable gleam from the body armor of a Federal Police Officer. Henry took no notice of the officer as he approached.

  “Excuse me, I’m going to have to ask you gentlemen to move away from the steps and be on your way. I just received a complaint from someone in the church,” the officer spoke metallically through the filter in his motorcycle-style helmet.

  My God, cell phones work fast,” Peter thought. Too bad I can’t afford one anymore.

  “Give us a break, officer, he’s not bothering anyone,” Henry said.

  Oh great, he’s arguing with him, Peter thought.

  “Sir, panhandling is illegal in this area. You will have to move along,” the officer said to Henry.

  Peter approached Henry and tapped his right arm, “Come on, buddy, we don’t want any trouble.”

  “Listen to your friend, sir. He’s giving you some good advice,” the officer said.

  “Damn, officer, this guy isn’t bothering anyone here,” Henry said, shaking his head.

  “Let’s go,” Peter said, pulling on his friend’s arm.

  The old man dumped the change from his hat into his hand and shoved it in his pocket. He put the hat on his head and stood, shakily, from the steps.

  “Please, sir, don’t trouble yourself on account of me,” the old man said to Henry as he walked unsteadily away.

  Henry stared at his reflection in the trooper’s faceplate and shook his head.

  “All right, officer, you win,” Henry said. “We’re leaving.”

  Henry turned on his heel like a soldier and walked away. Peter and Billy followed close behind. The officer stood like a statue by the church, watching them go. Henry patted the old man’s shoulder as they passed him on the sidewalk.

  “You see, guys, that was what I was talking about,” Henry said.

  “I understand, Henry,” Peter said, putting his right arm around his shoulder. “Sorry for losing my cool.”

  “No problem, Pete,” Henry said.

  “You still shouldn’t have given that guy ten bucks,” Ryder added.

  Henry glared at him for an instant before turning ahead and ignoring him.

  The crowds began thinning out as they left the retail district. Gleaming steel and glass corporate apartment buildings towered above them. They passed several uniformed valets standing outside glass doors. Twenty minutes later, they left the apartment district and entered the barren, “no man’s land” section of the city containing advertising billboards. The billboards temporarily distracted them with entertaining, if not always factual, messages.

  Peter’s eyes widened when he spotted his favorite billboard in the long line of advertisements. It was a large-scale ad for the government’s high tech theme park, Virtual-world. When Peter was a kid, he used to love going to amusement parks. He thought nothing could beat the thrill of soaring down a steel mountain on a roller coaster cart.

  Peter had seen many commercials for Virtual-world on TV; they made his childhood roller coaster rides seem like a kiddie ride by comparison. Virtual-world was the next-generation, twenty-first century theme park. They had the latest anti-grav coasters, which blew the old twentieth-century models off the rails.

  The anti-grav coaster was even considered one of the lesser attractions in Virtual-world. The largest Virtual-world attraction, the Powerdrome, contained four separate “worlds” where tourists could battle with a variety of robotic enemies.

  The billboard was split into four screens; each one revealed a different artificial world within the immense Powerdrome. The first screen read; “DARK WORLD – PREPARE TO ENTER A FANTASY WORLD OF BOUNDLESS IMAGINATION.” The picture on the screen showed a group of ordinary people engaged in swordfights with armored knights in an ancient castle hall. The next screen on the billboard read; “SPACE WORLD – EXPLORE STRANGE NEW WORLDS IN OUTER SPACE.” The picture showed a laser shootout in a space station corridor. The next screen read; “CRIME WORLD – EXPERIENCE THE THRILL OF EARLY TWENTIETH CENTURY CRIM
INAL ENTERPRISE.” The picture contained a shootout between two gangs of nineteen-twenties gangsters wielding Tommy Guns. The last screen read; “PREHISTORIC WORLD – EXPERIENCE THE WORLD WHEN DINOSAURS RULED SUPREME.” The picture showed a ferocious Tyrannosaurus Rex with wide slavering jaws and razor-sharp teeth pursuing a group of frightened people across a jungle clearing.

  Whenever Peter saw one of the Virtual-world ads, a shiver of excitement ran down his spine. More than anything he wanted to go there and experience the excitement of the four fantasy worlds. He wanted to escape his monotonous routine and engage in a fantastic adventure.

  Billy Ryder saw him staring at the billboard and followed his gaze to the jaws of the Tyrannosaurus.

  “That place looks pretty cool, huh?” Ryder commented, flicking his used butt on the sidewalk.

  “Definitely,” Peter agreed without tearing his gaze from the billboard.

  “Too bad we’ll never be able to go there,” Ryder said.

  “Huh?” Peter asked, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from the images.

  “I said, it’s too bad we’ll never go there. You have to be an Executive to go to Virtual-world.”

  Ryder’s simple statement brought the reality of the situation home to Peter. An intense feeling of depression struck him like a tidal wave. He would never be able to go there. He looked down at the cracked sidewalk and tried to push the Virtual-world images out of his mind. What was the use of fantasizing about something you could never do?

  Traffic began thinning out at the nearby exit ramps as they reached the end of the billboard section. Only an occasional ground car drove past them at this point. All the anti-gravs had either remained in Central City or had taken exits to the suburbs. When they reached the section of the city where they lived, Henry broke the silence.

  “Damn, guys, remind me to stay away from talking politics from now on. We agree on just about everything else!” he said, clapping his hand on Peter’s shoulder and giving him a rough hug with his right arm.