This Sin Called Hope (New Reality Series, Book Seven) by Anna Mayle
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
This Sin Called Hope Copyright © 2013 Anna Mayle Edited by Tiffany Mason
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
About the Author
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Also Available from Resplendence Publishing The New Reality Series
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This Sin Called Hope
A New Reality Story
By Anna Mayle
Resplendence Publishing, LLC
http://www.resplendencepublishing.com
This Sin Called Hope
Copyright © 2013 Anna Mayle
Edited by Tiffany Mason
Cover Art by Les Byerley
Published by Resplendence Publishing, LLC
2665 N Atlantic Avenue, #349
Daytona Beach, FL 32118
Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-694-3
Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Electronic Release: September 2013
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
Dedicated to all of the friends and family who stood up and helped me these past months when I bit off more than I could chew working overtime, planning my wedding and writing a genre I’d never tried before.
The house has been full of cleaning, sewing, crafting, painting, cooking, writing, sketching, debate, proofreading, arguments and laughter. Now that it’s all over, the place is just a little too quiet.
I love you all very much and couldn’t have pulled everything off without you.
Thank you.
Chapter One
Fragments of glass and bone crunched under Enoch’s boots, a cacophony of destruction with every step. Even centuries after the war and the plague, when one walked into the places around the six Walls of the continent, the graves of once great cities, the ground remembered the suffering of those times. No one ever bothered to clear it, sift through the sand and try to build anew.
Human kind had retreated from the shell of the Earth they had injured nearly beyond recognition. They lived in giant spheres reaching for miles, formed out of the skeletons of buildings left standing. Large metal monstrosities clothed in the scraps of the past, like the one he found himself approaching now. They hid in their Walls in something as close to comfort as they could hold, while those in the Wastes grew hard in the dry, dead air.
The sun blazed above him, its unforgiving rays caused the towering metal spear to glisten and glow; Mecca, to one in need of shelter or sustenance. Most were turned away at the door. If they didn’t leave soon enough, or if they weren’t human, they would be shot, unless they had something to sell.
His pack lay heavy with tablets to purify the nearly undrinkable rain water, and filters to syphon out something pleasantly breathable from the angry air that existed in the open world. Without them, it was so hot that sweat sizzled when it dripped to the dust, if it even had a chance to do that. Generally, unless a man knew how to be careful, the air of the Waste would suck every bit of moisture from the very pores and whisk it into nothingness.
It wasn’t as bad in the north and middle area of the continent, only possibly deadly. Few lived in the south anymore. There existed a small stretch of land called Nomans; no one reached the other side. The whole strip lay decorated with the bones of caravans and travelers forced into it by will or danger. They created a macabre necklace to cradle the livable land; a warning.
A flash of sharp white pain sizzled through him and Enoch pulled his hood lower, adjusted the pack weighing down his shoulders. He didn’t have time to waste on idle thought. The trip to the Wall took a week easily, even by cyc. He’d given himself his last dose, calculated carefully to allow him to function long enough to make the final trek to the Wall from where he’d hidden his transport. He could trade, and retreat back to the cyc where he had just enough time to get back to the Nomans border before it wore off. If anyone happened upon his transport’s hiding place while he was gone, it would be a long and agonizing walk to the nearest camp where he might find any relief from the pain, but it was the largest injection he could give himself without the chemicals tripping Wall sensors. These excursions were dangerous enough before factoring in the added risk, but trade with Walls was necessary once in a while.
It hadn’t been so difficult in the beginning. There was a time with fewer scans and paranoia. Then, ages ago, the Sitting of Governors had convened to speak on safety. Back when the fear wasn’t old and settled, but fresh and biting. While the people had been in the throes of that terror, they’d given away everything in exchange for safety. The governors’ power continued to grow and their grip continued to tighten around the throats of the people.
Someone in the Once Times said long ago that any society willing to give up their freedom for a little security would lose both. Enoch found it interesting how well the Once Timers had spoken for the now. If anyone remembered them but himself there was a 0.007% chance things may have turned out differently. But he was the last.
No one was about to listen to an Angel preaching the Once Times.
All around the Wall, a piecemeal city of tents and rough wooden boxes rose up amongst the stalks of towering wind turbines, peddlers and traders, people without the chip under their skin to proclaim them citizens. The Outsiders were composed of those not brave enough, or perhaps not stupid enough, to test themselves in the Waste. Instead they lived off of the Wall’s scraps and peddlers who traveled from place to place. Some trade could be found there. They had small gardens, blacksmiths and various other tradesmen, but Enoch needed a more precise hand at his business: he needed a master, and the masters lived in the Walls.
“Sure and solid, I know those steps,” a dry, cracked voice rasped.
Enoch stopped and looked down at the blind man sitting just inside a well sized tent, settled just right to be angled out of the range of the Wall’s cameras.
“Still not one for idle chatter, eh? What have you got for old Garger this trip?”
Enoch fished through his burden for a smaller sack. From that he brought out four good sized chunks of dried lizard meat and a small amount of purifying tablets. He pressed them into the old hands and waited while a nearly toothless mouth gummed the food happily.
“You bring any news from the Wastes?” Garger asked around his mouthful.
“The sun is hot, the sand is hot, and the air…” Enoch didn’t see the point in gossip.
“Hot,” Garger agreed, “But in the northern Waste?”
Enoch couldn’t be sure if Garger was fishing for his location, or looking for confirmation of something else he’d heard from another customer, but the man was after something. “About?”
Old eyes, dull and useless, still seemed to find Enoch’s face unerringly when he spoke. “Word
from the few trade caravans we’ve seen lately says the northern Walls are having trouble. No outsiders allowed in. No communications. No large settlements between them, even in the Waste.” He swallowed and licked his lips before finally getting to his point. “They say the outer city, like ours…they’re all gone. You think…an outer purge? Maybe then we’re next?”
Enoch shook his head. “Even if they were, with no communications they won’t be spreading the idea for it here.” He was grateful for the old man’s blindness. It meant his concern wouldn’t be noted.
The oblivious man smiled and lifted the flap to his tent, welcoming Enoch inside. Once the canvas was fully settled again, he pulled up the cloth floor, motioned to a patch of sand, mumbled, “Don’t die, you bring me good food,” and left Enoch alone.
Enoch dug for a good three feet in the shifting, dry sand before he found a set of four boards buried there and four metal slots marking the sides of his hole. The boards fit easily and held the sand at bay for the rest of the digging. The metal went down another six feet before he hit the door and pulled it open.
First he hooked his sack to a pulley system on the door’s other side, and then he slipped in himself, gripping the hanging rope tightly as the door fell back into place with a padded thunk. The rush and roar that followed would be the sand filling the space in again. It was the only downside to Garger’s secret entrance. Once in, you had to walk out the front door. Granted that was worlds away from the troubles of walking in, but Walls were tight, enclosed no matter how spacious they were, how many miles they spanned. Enoch couldn’t help but imagine he was a caged animal in its confines.
The Under Wall was dark and cool, but still dry. They weren’t rich enough to moisten the air. Water was too precious.
Enoch removed his thick goggles, their lenses dark as a welding visor, and hung them from a clip on his tool belt. His eyes adjusted well to the pitch darkness. He walked confidently on until the hall opened into a wide room cluttered with machines each one adding a new clatter to the cacophony of industrial din.
“The mysterious stranger returns!” a voice almost as old and dry as Garger’s called out from a mass of pipes and pistons.
“Vegen,” Enoch greeted and waited for the old Works Keeper to untangle himself.
“I hope you brought some filters this run, because I’ve done all I can with that last batch.” Vegen straightened up, his thickly muscled frame filled out the dirty coveralls he wore, arms larger than Enoch’s thighs flexed and legs bigger around than Enoch’s waist steadied the old man. Vegen rubbed his thick, filthy neck, smearing more dirt and oil over it in the process, and craned his head back to meet Enoch’s eyes. Enoch stood easily a full foot taller than the strong and stock old man. “The people up top would rather cast blame than fix their problems.”
“Those who live in Walls expect life owes them a living.”
Vegen snorted, “And those who live outside of the Walls forget that life is meant to be lived. Both generalizations, neither completely true. There are generalizations I could make about Angels too, are those true of you?”
Enoch shushed the old man and glanced at the camera’s lining the ceiling. “Say that loud enough and…”
Vegen shook his head sadly. “Nothing meant by it, young one. Old ears make for loud voices.”
As a peace offering, Enoch pulled the filters from his sack and passed them over. “I’ll take the old ones with me. Try to clean them up without destroying them.”
“Waste not, want not,” the old man agreed sagely.
“All we do anymore is want.” Enoch adjusted his cowl and made sure to avoid the cameras. His damned eyes had a habit of glowing in the dark and dim.
“I can have these changed out quickly enough. In the meantime, I have more trade credits in it for you if you can make those two pumps in the back work again.
Enoch nodded and left Vegen to it, the old man knew what he was doing, but Enoch had years of experience on him and time that would be wasted waiting otherwise. He shifted his tool belt for easier access and got to work, all the while carefully avoiding the glinting lenses of the myriad cameras around him.
* * * *
Script danced before Jacobi faster than the human eyes could track. Code after code, line after line, he knew the key points to look for when deciding on a destination. There…Wall 3 had a low energy output. It could be due to conservation, renewable sources being limited as they were, but Walls weren’t known for their pragmatism when it came to simple everyday issues. No, likely it was due to equipment malfunction. The malfunction was possibly because of a glitch in their programming. Everything was connected on the Network, run on the Network. Some people practically lived in the Network. Jacobi was one of those people, so glitches he could assist with.
The security feed is based on a 1024 bit encryption, taking control would be nothing. Ooh, they have a firewall with an intrusion prevention system included. He tweaked it as he breezed by to up its efficiency for next time. With a flick of his wrist, he had the cameras, manipulating them to be his eyes while keeping the Wall’s guards from realizing it; also easy. He zeroed in on the Under Wall and…
Drum roll please…
Mechanical in nature, denied, and it was already being attended to. Jacobi kept a camera trained on the mechanic while he fed a looped feed to the main hub. Under Walls were completely artificial and stagnant image-wise. No shifting shadows or changes in light to calculate. Easy again. No one would even know he was there—it was all great fun!
The mechanic was half-buried in the bulk of the machine he was working on. Something caught his attention and Jacobi zoomed close as he could with the security feeds, tried to get a better visual, but there was too much metal between he and the man. He studied the screens for a good half hour before he realized fully what was wrong: mankind moved with soul, even those who seemed lifeless and drained. This man, though, moved methodically. There existed reason in every twist of wrist and inhalation of lungs, every exertion precise. Calculated, that was the correct term. Jacobi could almost see the code running through the man’s mind. He wondered if it would be visible in his eyes. This wasn’t the Network he was observing. He ran a quick diagnostic to be sure…no, this was a man, not a program. An interesting man, he decided when a glow flashed under the cowl covering his features.
Because of a lack of a visible face, no links could be made to this user’s information. He hadn’t heard anything but the whir and clank of machinery since he’d secured the feed, so no name either. A quick pulse and ping to him, the man wasn’t wearing a com device of any kind. No com device? Everyone in the Walls had a com device. He had a Network port, but it was unlike any Jacobi had ever encountered; a fellow hacker then? Maybe, but as far as Jacobi knew, most hackers avoided Walls because of the security and chipping, most only dealt in the Waste towns and caravans.
He ran a quick scan, hi-jacking the Wall’s security equipment as well as the feed, but no, no chip. How did he get inside?
Jacobi pulled up the computer files in the air beside him and flipped through as he watched the moving puzzle before him. Nothing about security issues, no infiltrations. On file, the Wall had internal issues like anyplace did. The lower level was violent and crime ridden. Slowly moving up the insides to the top story the crime withered away with their increased security and harsher punishments, but nothing any other Wall couldn’t boast.
Who are you?
The mystery twisted something, there was a flash of soldering spark and then he hit something else. The machine coughed, whirred and came to life in his hands.
With a wiggle and turn, the large man was free of the piping and Jacobi stared for a movement of the hood, nothing. This guy was good.
“A miracle worthy of an An—” the Works Keeper came into the line of the camera, holding out a backpack and a credit stick.
The covered head turned so quickly Jacobi checked his feeds for a data skip.
“Sorry,” the Keeper sighed. “
It won’t be this way forever, you know.”
“No,” the large man agreed. “There will come a time when the Earth finishes what she started, then all of us will be the same again. We’ll all be dead.”
The Keeper’s jaw fell open and the other man took the bag and credits from him. “It’s not all so bad.”
The man turned back, watching the elder one for a long frozen moment before replying blandly, “I never said it was bad.” He hesitated, and turned back. “Have you received any word on the northern areas?”
The Keeper stared back in what appeared to be bewilderment. Finally he shrugged. “The usual I’d guess. They’re lazy because they have it too easy. They wouldn’t last a day in our Wastes. They have unlimited water. I’m sure the north has rumors about us to.”
“Not rumors. Garger suspects they’ve been purging.”
Purging? No. Jacobi pulled up new windows, the space around him cluttered with the glowing screens. There was no mention of purges beyond the usual Wall protocols. He ran through a couple dummy locales and began work on the main Network Knot of Wall 1.
When he looked back, the stranger was gone.
Fail! He flew into a rush of codes and mapping, but in the dark of the Under Wall, he couldn’t pick up the stranger. He cursed the Wall’s cheapness, they should have had thermal scanners in such a vital area, but everyone seemed to take the vital for granted.
Switching to the security on the lower level, he scanned the crowd around the entrance point to the under, but no one emerged. Denied! He cursed to himself, and ran through feed after feed while he split his attention to start a file on the enigmatic stranger. This was even more fun than hacking high level Wall protocols, he wasn’t about to let the man get away so easily.